Misplaced
by tigerlily25
Summary: Glory's portal was meant to lead to her home dimension, but certain higher powers have other plans for the Slayer. Plans that include Hogwarts, three particular Gryffs, a Slytherin, and a prophecy.
1. Into the Portal

What if Glory's portal didn't open to her home dimension, but to Hogwarts? Basically – Buffy is transported to Hogwarts, with no memory of her former life as the Slayer. Meanwhile, Voldemort is looming….. and the Sunnydale crew are solving a mystery with the help of some LA detectives. What happens? Well you'll just have to read! Btvs S5, HP 6th year.

Disclaimer: If Btvs was mine, I would be much nicer to them. However, they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN etc. Harry Potter is the marvelous invention of J.K Rowling. Don't sue me, all you'll get is two manic goldfish and some student loans.

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**Chapter 1: Into the Portal.**

I stand on the swaying platform with her. My little sister who is so much more than what she seems. My little sister who is not really mine after all. My little sister who is weeping as though she could open the gateways to heaven with her tears.

My little sister who has opened the gateways to hell with her blood. 

The sky fills with fireballs and creatures that i cannot describe, creatures the residents in this town see only in their darkest nightmares. I see them every day. I fight them in the inky blackness of night to prevent nightmares coming true. Tomorrow, this will all be forgotten, in the ignorance of a town that does not want to see.

Will we still be here tomorrow?

On the ground below, my friends fight valiantly to protect a world that sometimes threatens to crush me with its weight. Beside me, Dawn whimpers and turns her face to mine. Her eyes are filled with tears and a grim acceptance of her fate. I wonder fleetingly what it is she sees in mine. 

I draw deep inside myself, preparing for what is to come. Perhaps this is visible in my eyes, for Dawn's widen in horror.

"Buffy, no."

"Dawnie, I have to."

I speak softly to her, words that can never be enough to replace what will be lost. Tears overflow as the portal crackles and widens, a pale blue glow casting its shadows on our faces. I tell her to be brave. 

I don't feel brave. I just feel empty. Will the world miss me when I'm gone? Will they even notice? Always the silent fighter, living my life in shadows. Saving the world. 

_Saving my sister_.

I turn and run, knowing that if I hesitate for just one second, see the heartbreak in Dawn's eyes, I will be unable to present my gift to the world in all its crackly blue wrapping. Giles has said that the portal energies were powerful enough to kill. 

He is usually right.

I leap from the tower, dive into the sea of blue. Energy pulses through my body as I fall through nowhere, rippling through my system until I can feel my teeth rattle. Stealing the breath from my lungs and invading every part of me. 

Is this what death is like? It doesn't feel like it did last time. I suppose it is different each time. Granted, most people die only once. 

Guess I'm just extra gifted.

 I have been hovering on the precipice between life and death for what seems like an age, knowing there will be a moment when I do not fight as hard against the darkness, when I let it wash over me. I remember Spike's words from long ago and wonder if he is indeed having his 'good day.'

 Pain intrudes on my thoughts. Fiery tongues seem to lap at my skin. I scream, pointless in a place where nobody can hear me. Black spots cloud my vision and I close my eyes and wonder if I am doomed to fall forever.

Then I hit the ground.

***************************************

"Harry… HARRY!!" Ron poked his head around the dormitory door, waving his arms at Harry who was staring at the Hogwarts grounds intently from their window. Harry did not move.

" Is he cursed? Is he petrified? Is he…" Hermione's head joined Ron's at the door. Her voice trailed off as she turned her gaze to follow Harry's.

 " Holy cricket…WHAT is that?"

The moonlit sky above Hogwarts was disrupted with a great stormy cloud. Dark clouds were not unusual during the bitter winter, however in their seven years at Hogwarts nobody could remember seeing one that was electric blue and crackling. 

As they watched, the cloud seemed to glow brighter and long tongues of blue flame shot haphazardly from the mass. Balls of fire lit up the night sky as trees caught alight. Ron had the sudden urge to cheer when a large ball struck the Whomping Willow – he had never much fancied that tree after it all but destroyed his father's Ford Anglia. Trying to crush Harry and himself in the process was an added black mark in its favour, of course.

" Bloody He….Heck. Don't glare at me like that, Hermione. I wasn't intending to swe….OW!" Ron shot a glare of his own at Hermione. You would think after so many years as friends she would have learnt to tolerate his use of swears. Even learn to use some herself….perish the thought.

Ron's silent chuckle was interrupted by Harry turning from the windowsill and frantically rummaging in a trunk for his well-used invisibility cloak. Hermione paused mid-glare and looked at Harry in disbelief. 

"Harry Potter! We're NOT going out there in the middle of that... whatever-it-is! I have no desire to be lit on fire thankyou very much!" she half-squealed. " Besides, Ron's hair is already flaming!"

"Hey!"

Ron shot his second glare in five minutes at the indignant witch, accompanied with a poke in the ribs. 

"Harry.......Harry? Don't just ignore us!" 

Hermione was talking to empty air, waving her arms around on the off-chance she might strike something soft and Harry-shaped, when Seamus Finnigan walked in, fresh from a shower, wearing little more than a towel. He stopped suddenly at the sight of the cleverest witch in the sixth year calling Harry's name and performing some strange kind of muggle dance. In his astonishment, his hands flew up and his towel flew…down.

"What on _earth_ are you doing??" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Looking for…eep!"

Hermione, noticing Seamus in all his erm…glory… made a squeaking sound, turned bright red, and ran from the room with her eyes squeezed shut. Ron and Seamus heard a thud as the bewildered witch ran directly into the corridor wall. 

Ron winced in sympathy, until the situation struck him as hilariously funny. Shoulders shaking, he pictured Hermione waving her arms. Then noticing Seamus minus towel. Then running into the wall. Then….

"Er..Ron? D'ya think I could have a minute here?" Seamus interrupted, now firmly re-toweled and almost as embarassed as Hermione.

"Oh…sure…mate…bye" Ron choked out in between cackles of laughter, leaving the room to find Hermione. No doubt she'd be cranky when her head started hurting. The thought of her cranky put an end to Ron's laughter. He only wished Harry had been there to witness the spectacle. 

Oh bollocks…..Harry!

*********************************************

During the confusion, Harry had taken the opportunity to slip from the room and out the portrait door, thoroughly confusing the Fat Lady. 

He wanted to make sure Hagrid's house was safe – made of wood, it was not the safest place to inhabit during a mysterious electrical firestorm. Following the departure of Norbert, Hagrid had seemed less in danger of being set on fire; now the danger was present once more.

Hurrying across the lawns towards Hagrids hut, he noticed the cloud had turned a deep red colour, and a circle of energy had gathered in the middle. Dodging small fireballs, he wrapped the cloak tighter around his body as he neared the hut, still fire-free for the moment. 

All of a sudden, with a rather loud pop, the cloud  above him seemed to part, and a small figure was dumped from the hole, traveling fast toward the ground. Harry cursed as he fumbled for his wand, dropping his cloak in the process. 

Finally locating it, he pointed it at the speeding object and cried above the sound of the strange cloud imploding in on itself  "_Wingardium__Leviosa__!". _The object slowed considerably, but failed to stop before hitting the ground, landing with a bone-jarring thud that made Harry wince. 

Whatever it was, it was surely broken.

All thoughts of Hagrid leaving his mind, he rushed toward the heap on the ground as the remnants of the cloud disappeared and the night was still once more. Approaching it slowly, wand at the ready lest it presented a threat, he bent over it carefully, curious about the object produced by this odd cloud.

It was a small girl, no more than 15 or 16 at least, with long blonde hair…..dressed in **muggle **clothes. Her clothes were dirty and she was deathly still and pale. New bruises marred her face, and her hair was matted and almost as bushy as Hermione's. One leg was twisted at an odd angle.

Harry believed, at first glance, that he was too late to help this strange child – surely the vanished cloud would have killed her, and if not, the fall certainly would. Holding back unexpected tears, he knelt to brush her hair from her face and as he did felt both a prickle of electricity and a faint pulse.

 Standing quickly, he summoned a stretcher from the Quidditch field, and, wrapping his school cloak around her to keep her warm, Harry directed the floating stretcher toward the hospital wing, following behind it wrapped once again in the invisibility cloak.

*************************************

Poppy Pomfrey, secure in the knowledge that all students were safely in their common rooms, and that none would disturb her rare peace, sat in her comfortable chair near the fireplace. For once, the hospital wing was blessedly empty of pupils, a small miracle considering the cold winter and the predisposition of certain sixth years to seek trouble and then medical attention.

Eyelids heavy, Poppy set aside the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, tilting her head back to enjoy the warmth of the crackling witchfire on her face. Sleep soon announced its presence to the empty room with a loud and rather unbecoming snore.

The heavy wooden door to the wing flew open with an almighty bang, startling the motherly woman from sleep. Rising from the chair, she turned towards the curious sight of a stretcher floating toward her in mid-air of its own accord. As it approached, her eyes widened in horror at the sight of an unconscious young girl, beaten and bloodied, lying on it wrapped in a student's cloak.

Folding his invisibility cloak into a small square and tucking it hastily under his jumper, Harry was quick to follow the stretcher, approaching Madame Pomfrey from behind.

 " Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry would later swear to fellow students that their matron indeed was capable of jumping three feet into the air in fright. At present, however, he was consumed with a sort of panic that he could not explain. It was suddenly very important to him that this strange girl be alright.

Turning in response to Harry's urgent tone, she surveyed his panicked expression before returning her gaze to the stretcher. With a wave of her wand, she transferred the girl to a comfortable bed. Busying herself with several small glass vials and a sizable medical kit, Madame Pomphrey mended slashes, broken bones and administered a pain reliever with an added dash of SleepEasy, for dreamless sleep. 

Moments later, when the girl had been bandaged and dosed, Madame Pomphrey turned again to Harry, more worried than he had seen her in all his years at Hogwarts. The injuries this girl had sustained were more horrific than anything she had experienced, and it saddened her to think that someone or something had done this to one so innocent.

" That's about all I can do for now. Mister Potter, what on earth happened tonight? Where did this child come from? She is not a student here, as you may have already guessed. Take this, and start at the beginning."

Harry accepted the offered chocolate and opened his mouth to begin.

Before he could get a word out, a familiar voice rang out from the fireplace. " Indeed Poppy, it is better that the story begin at the beginning rather than the end – most confusing I must say." 

A voice rang out from the fireplace. Seconds later, Dumbledore himself had appeared. Studying the motionless form on the bed, he closed his eyes briefly as if to shut out the sight before him. 

 He turned to Harry and smiled warmly, motioning for him to seat himself in a nearby chair. Once all were seated, and sherbert lemons exchanged, Harry began to tell his story.

" I was fetching my chess set from the dormitory when I happened to glance out of the window….."

*****************************************

_Sunnydale__, __California___

A shadow had fallen over the Summers house, where only one Summers now remained. 

Xander had taken Anya, Willow and Dawn to Sunnydale General Hospital for treatment. Upon arriving, they found policemen already taking statements from members of the public who insisted they had been set upon by gangs of costumed thieves, obviously on a drug of some kind. The culprit was labeled as PCP. 

It was amazing what people allowed themselves to believe rather than face their fears. Had it been under different circumstances, a joke would have been shared among the Scooby Gang. However, everyone was lost in their own grief.

Anya, stunned from the fight and aftermath, could not stop talking. She had answered quite truthfully when asked about her injuries and their cause. However, members of the hospital staff had assured the police that a concussion could certainly cause hallucinations – flying dragons and portals from hell obviously were the result of a spectacular blow to the head. 

An officer later noted in his report the detail given by the subject was remarkably lucid for one who should be groggy. He did not report the connection between the lunatics from the mental ward and the fight beneath a rickety tower. His personal theory remained that the 'crazies' had been summoning alien life forms.

Xander, required in this situation to be the strong and manly male, watched with stinging eyes the public denial of everything Buffy had fought so hard against, to protect these people who would never know she existed. 

Had existed. 

His breath hitched in his throat as he choked back bitter tears and an urge to scream. When examined, he said little, and passed off the sheen of tears in his eyes as a dust allergy.

Willow, drained from her use of magic both to restore Tara and clear the path for Buffy to reach Dawn, said nothing. She sobbed silently into her dirty and torn hands and, once treated, soaked the bandages through with tears twice before a sedative was administered. 

She spent the rest of the night, drugged and unable to move, staring at the wall and hearing Buffy's screams. Seeing her crumpled body on the ground.

Dawn, deeply in shock from loss of blood and a sister, was silent and still when they poured burning peroxide onto her wounds. Motionless when they were stitched. It was only when they began pumping someone elses blood ( that was not Buffy's) into her veins that she screamed and kicked and bit an unsuspecting doctor. 

While her hands and feet were being strapped to the bed, the nurse reported that the child 'stared wide eyed at the ceiling, sobbing to something called a muffy that she would always be part of it, that it was… the blood of summer… always blood.' 

Psychiatric help was offered, but Dawn would not co-operate, choosing instead to stare out the window at a nearby cemetery.

When those who were released arrived at Revello Drive, they found Giles, Spike, three empty bottles of single malt whiskey and half a cup of congealed blood lying on the floor of the living room. A blood mustache was evident on two sets of lips. For a moment, Xander forgot the situation, wished he had a camera, and began to laugh. The laughter was dulled instantly as he caught sight of a well-loved photo of the Scoobs, Buffy laughing in the centre.

Choosing to let the two deal with their grief  and subsequent hangovers in their own time, Xander and Anya retreated outside, unable to remain inside a house filled with reminders of Buffy. Anya was unable to understand why Xander had no interest in having sex, or planning the wedding. She assumed it was because he had seen dead bodies and was not one of those people who got a happy from that kind of thing.

Hank Summers, in a plane over the outback of Australia with a busty tanned blonde at the time that his daughter leapt from the platform, missed each of the cards informing him of the situation. His new fiancée (left at home in LA) recognised the address and name and tore them up in a jealous rage.

It was a week before Willow was strong enough to venture to L.A herself to break the news to Angel and Cordelia and crew. Jubilant about their return home from Pylea, the first thing Angel saw upon arriving was Willow's tearstained face.

He did not want to hear the how, or the why. He demanded the when in a weary voice, retreated to his rooms and stayed there for well over a week. Cordelia offered Willow her support and a friendly ear whenever it was needed. She asked for details, knowing that Angel would want them later. 

There was such a remarkable difference between the new Cordy and Queen C that Willow was tempted to ask if she was possessed by the Ghost of Nice Cordelia, though she refrained.

The funeral service was held at night to allow two life-challenged friends to attend, though there was considerable animosity between them. Grudges were put aside, feuds forgotten, and Xander didn't call Angel 'Deadboy' once. 

Among the mourners were two vampires, an ex-demon, a mystical energy source, two witches, a seer, a watcher and rogue demon hunter, a watcher and ex-demon-raiser, a glorified bricklayer….none of which mattered, because in the end they were all tied together in knowing one person, the link living though the person did not.

Tears were cried, bonds formed, and memories resurfaced in a dark cemetery, over a cold stone that was simple yet descriptive.

_"She Saved the World….A __Lot__"_

*******************************************

AN:  More coming, I promise!! Once the steady flow ( or torrent) of uni work eases up a little). Things WILL move faster next chapter – lots of ideas, lots to say…. Meh!

Feedback is v.v.v.v good! If you love it…if you HATE it.. Tell me! This is my first fanfic so please don't shoot me down right away – give me a chance to improve, people, I beg you! J


	2. When the Smoke Clears

A/N: Thanks heaps to all who took the time to R/R – comments and criticism are much appreciated. Some things may be cleared up in this chapter – others will remain a mystery until I'm good and ready to reveal.

I realize that Season 5 in the Buffyverse has Buffy at around 20ish, but for the purpose of this fic, let's just imagine that she's a little younger. 17, to be exact. More on why later in the fic.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them for awhile, and will return (with receipt) when I'm done. Don't sue.

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**Chapter 2: When the Smoke Clears**

_Hogwarts ( 1 week later)_

" Potter, what exactly do you think you are doing? The infusion of wormwood is added _after_ the porcupine quills, which you would have known had you bothered to correctly read the instructions. _Another_ zero, Potter."

Harry sighed wearily, gritting his teeth as Professor Snape once again found a reason to deduct points from Gryffindor. Truth was, he had been unable to concentrate in any of his classes for almost a week, knowing that in the hospital wing lay a defenseless girl who without even opening her eyes had wormed her way into his heart. 

At Dumbledore's request, her presence had remained a secret from everyone bar himself, Harry, Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, and Snape. The latter had appeared in the hospital wing in the midst of Harry's explanation to Dumbledore, bearing freshly-made potions for Madame Pomfrey. Seeing the strange girl lying silent and pale in the bed, Snape had immediately looked to the Headmaster for an explanation. Soon after, Harry had been sent back to the Gryffindor common room and thus had not been present for said explanation. 

Harry wasn't sure exactly what Dumbledore had told the Potions Professor, but since that night Snape had become even more cantankerous and seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting Harry. Neville Longbottom had not incurred the wrath of Snape for days, for which he was both puzzled and grateful. The Slytherins, Malfoy in particular, were taking great delight in asking Snape questions, knowing that he would call on Harry to answer. 

Hermione's frantically waving hand had been ignored outright, Snape not even bothering to snap at her for being 'an insufferable know-it-all'. 

Altogether, it was a mystery to Ron and Hermione, who were used to sharing everything with Harry. The pair had prodded Harry many a time for an explanation, only to receive a brush off. Noticing that Harry seemed to disappear once classes were over for the day, Ron had convinced Hermione to follow him, citing many far-fetched examples as proof their friend was in some kind of trouble.

"What if he's looking for trouble in the Forbidden Forest? Or sneaking to Hogsmeade to meet Sirius in secret? What if he's under the Imperius curse, and is being summoned to the Slytherin common-room to plot evil with, say, Malfoy? Or he's….dressing up in women's robes and doing the hacienda!" Ron whispered to Hermione as they hurried through dark corridors behind Harry, ducking behind suits of armor to avoid being seen. 

Hermione sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. " Do shut up Ron. And, by the way, it's the Macarena. But thank you for the mental image. Look – he's going through that painting – the werewolf. How odd. I swear I've seen it somewhere before…."

Ron approached the painting carefully, eyes on the snarling werewolf. Its sharp, golden eyes locked onto his, and it growled fiercely. Hermione paled.

"Err – may we enter please? See, our friend is in there and, well…" Ron leapt back as the werewolf rose and began to strain at the rope confining it to the painting, teeth bared. Hermione pulled her wand from her robes and tapped the frame twice, muttering something Ron couldn't make out.

Suddenly, as if signaled, the painting swung open slowly. The pair found a dimly lit staircase before them. Glancing uncertainly at Hermione, Ron stepped inside and they began to make their way up the stone stairs cautiously.

*********************************************************************

In a small, cozy room at the top of a high tower, a fire burned brightly. In order to preserve silence, no paintings lined the walls. The spaces that remained behind were bright squares of whole pattern that time and dust had not yet touched. Squashy, overstuffed armchairs rested by the fire, alive in the flickering light. Heavy, rosy velvet drapes at the windows obscured any evidence from the world outside that the room was occupied.

Said occupants were limited to two – a sleeping girl and the Boy Who Lived.

With his back to the ornate tapestry that served as a door, Harry sat close to the comfortable bed, examining the figure dwarfed among its covers. Bruises and cuts had healed in record time, leaving her face smooth and un-marred. And a lovely face it was too, though still a little pale and thin. 

Harry peered closely at her, noting the long eyelashes concealing eyes he had never seen, the smooth honey complexion, slightly upturned nose and full rosy lips that were slightly parted, moving gently with each intake of breath. 

'Who are you? Where did you come from?' Harry asked out loud, voice echoing in the silent room. He wondered if somewhere there was a worried family searching for her, and something clutched at his heart. 

Having almost no family himself, other than the Dursleys; who were little more than hated relations he endured when he was forced to leave Hogwarts; and his godfather Sirius, who was away more than he was home (having been cleared of his crimes, he was now under the employment of the Ministry of Magic, and often required to apparate to the other side of the world at a moments notice), Harry sometimes wished he had someone who would miss him as a family should.

He was interrupted from his musings by a sudden draught behind him. Turning abruptly, he was somewhat surprised to see Ron staring past him to the figure in the bed, Hermione close behind.

"Well. I'm fairly sure that's not Malfoy…" Ron muttered quietly, amazed. Harry couldn't help but notice that both his friends were covered in dust, presumably from the climb. Hermione noticed him staring and quickly shook her hair, a cloud of dust rising and escaping from the room on the tail end of the breeze. She grinned sheepishly, her face black with grime.

" We uh….Ron was attacked by a big bad vanishing step. He caught me on the way down – not exactly fun." Hermione explained, using few words for once. Ron blushed, a startling contrast with his fiery hair, extracted his wand, and within a second had them both sparkling clean. Harry noted the pink in Hermione's cheeks and wondered who had landed on the bottom first. It was about time those two woke up to themselves…or each other.

Now clean, Hermione looked closely at the sleeping girl, and her mouth opened in surprise. " Who on earth is that? Is this where you've been disappearing to? What if someone finds out you've been hiding strange girls in the Astronomy tower? You'll be expelled for sure!"

Ron snorted at the thought of Harry being expelled after all these years of rule-breaking, but silently was as curious as Hermione. He looked expectantly at Harry, and as he did, a soft moan from the bed caught their attention. 

It appeared from the fluttering of her long eyelashes that Harry's mystery girl was waking up.

*********************************************************************

Flickering light appears behind my eyelids. Did I fall asleep?

Everything aches, and not in a good way. I feel as though I've run a marathon. Do I run marathons? Maybe I've just run a marathon – and when I open my eyes I'll be at home in…..where? Do I even have a home?

I hear soft voices from somewhere above me. A slightly nervous male voice "I think she's waking up. Do you think she's dangerous? Maybe we should get Dumbledore." I don't know anyone called – was it Rumblewhore? What an odd name.

" Perhaps she can tell us who she is." A different voice, a female this time. How many people are there in here? More importantly, where IS here?

My eyelids are still heavy, but somehow I force them open slowly, coming face to face with a pair of startling emerald eyes. They are soft eyes, kind and gentle. A friend maybe? I don't recognize the face.

I clear my throat, wincing. A glass of water floats _(floats??)_ toward me and yet another voice encourages me to drink. Emerald Eyes again, catching pillows that float to him and helping me sit up. Once more with the floating. What is this place where people lack the energy to just pick something up? 

The water is cool and tastes of lemon and sugar, as well as another ingredient I can't actually name. How is it that I remember what lemon tastes like, but not how I ended up here?

I clear my throat, and try again. " Actually…I was hoping you could tell me who **I **am. Where I am. Anything at all really." To my horror, my eyes fill with tears. They come out slowly at first, as if I am unused to crying. Soon I am trying to breathe through great, heaving gasps that leave me shaking. What an impression to make on these people. Granted, said people appear to be wearing dresses. 

They're not white, and I can't see any harps or clouds or anything, so I guess I'm not in Heaven. Though I'm not sure why I would think that in the first place.

Emerald Eyes approaches cautiously as I try in vain to control my sobs, and suddenly he's hugging me. It's such a surprise that I choke on a half-sob. I pull back from his warm arms, somewhat comforted although my questions are still unanswered.

He speaks: a warm, friendly voice. " I'm Harry. Harry Potter." As he says his name he looks closely at me, as if waiting for some reaction. Mild surprise shows in his eyes when I stare blankly at him. 

"Hi Harry. I'm – I don't know who I am. And I think I made a mess on your dress. Sorry 'bout that." I apologize sheepishly, blushing

Shrugging, Harry brushes his wild chocolate hair from his forehead, revealing for a split second a strange lightning scar. He studies me as the other two come forward.

" I'm Ron. This is 'Mione. You're American?" A boy with a shock of red hair speaks gently, as though he's afraid I'll shatter. Something about his hair sends a prickle up my spine. I nod – somehow I know this is true, just as I can recognize an English accent in their voices. 

"HER-Mione," she corrects with a reproving glance at Ron. She's smiling at me uncertainly, still trying to determine whether I'm friend or foe. " Do you remember anything at all?" she asks.

I frown, thinking. " I – I don't know. I don't know where I am. Or how I got here. I don't even know my name. A big tick in the non-helpful column." I try to joke but feel tears welling up again. I grit my teeth and bow my head as Hermione places a warm hand on mine. A sob escapes before I can stop it. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not…

Her hand squeezes mine reassuringly. I look up to see her biting her lip, her face distressed at my tears. " Please don't be upset – I'm sorry… I didn't mean to push. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can help you." Her words are slightly awkward, as if she's not used to comforting teary strangers. Ron and Harry are close behind her, looking equally uncertain – though not afraid as I expected. 

At the mention of the unfamiliar name, Ron's eyes light up. "Yeah, Dumbledore knows pretty much everything. It's sort of creepy.  Maybe he knows a charm or potion to help you. We could see him before dinner, Harry."

I blink, confused. "A what?" Did he just say _charm_?

Hermione jumps in quickly, shaking her head slightly at Ron. "There isn't a magical solution for everything, Ron. Some things have to be done the Muggle way." She turns to Harry. "Dumbledore does know about this, right?" He nods.

I'm still stuck on two words beginning with 'm'. Magic. Muggle. The first, I can sort of grasp – can't imagine why it would come up in normal conversation though. My eyes drift again to Harry's forehead, and I get the feeling that these three are not exactly 'normal people'. The second 'm' word, however…

"What's a Muggle? A really bizarre experiment breeding Muppets and the Wiggles?"

Hermione's gaze flickers almost imperceptibly toward Harry, as if she's looking for his nod of approval. It's Ron that speaks.

"S'what we call non-magic people." He grins at me. "What's a Muppet?" 

"Ron!" Hermione is trying hard to look annoyed, but I don't think she is, really. Watching the two of them bicker in the background gives me déjà vu. Harry grins at them, then at me. 

" So, um… Any chance of seeing this Bumbly guy?" The smile dims and I hurry to smooth things over. "Not that you're boring or anything, it's just…"

"You want to find out who you are." I must have looked startled, because his grin returns. " I get that." 

There's something else I want to ask. "Could you… when I'm talking to him, could you be here? Familiar face and all that. If you don't have something else to do – what is this place anyway?" 

Harry shrugs off his black dress-looking thing, revealing something grey and white that looks awfully like a school uniform – right down to the tie and the little badge on his chest. I bet if I looked over the edge of the bed… yep, black, clunky school shoes that look as though they've been well and truly worn in.

"Hasn't anyone told you what happened? Dumbledore, or McGonagall… Snape even?" Is he stalling?

"Hasn't anyone taught you not to answer a question with a question?" It's not meant to be a criticism, but I'm tired of the shifty looks and avoid-y tactics. " If someone did come see me and explain everything that's happened, I would've missed it anyway – sleeping kinda does that." I really, really want to roll my eyes at him, but I don't. The absence of bickering tells me Ron and Hermione are listening in. Alright… enough of this.

"Okay, I s'pose I'll have to do my own guessing. If this is all some kind of secret, you can always just wipe my memory later." What a wonderful choice of words. " So, here's the sitch. If I guess right, you ask this all-knowing guy to come see me. If I guess wrong... um, I dunno. Haven't really thought this through." The three friends grin.

"Anyway, here goes. I'm at some kind of school in England. It's either a boarding school or one that has classes way late at night, considering you're all still here, in your uniforms when it's almost sunset. Plus, Ron mentioned something about dinner. You're all working really hard at hiding a big secret from me which has something to do with charms and potions, magic, and Professors with uber-weird names. How'm I doing so far?" Three pairs of eyes stare at me speechlessly. 

"I would say, my dear, that you don't miss a trick." Okaay… there's someone who looks like a Wizard of Oz cast-off standing in the doorway. We're talking the full, multi-coloured-pointy-hat-and-cape deal. And he's grinning like all his Christmases have come at once.

" Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," I mutter under my breath. His grin now looks like it's about to split his face in two.

" I don't advise clicking your heels, my dear. Never know where you might end up." He pauses, eyes dancing with merriment. So this must be…

"Albus Dumbledore – pleased to meet you. You were wanting answers?" I nod. He looks at Harry and his friends. " Please go directly to my office – all of you – and wait for me there. I will ask Dobby to have some dinner sent up for you." They turn to go without protesting. As Harry is pushing aside the tapestry that hides the door, I turn to Dumbledore.

"Can they stay – please? I want them to be here. Plus, then you only have to explain things once." Ron looks hopefully at Dumbledore. His eyes fix on mine for a minute, and whatever he sees seems to please him. 

" Very well. They will be allowed to remain on the condition that they do not interrupt." He draws a pointed stick from his robes and four chairs screech to a halt beside my bed. Harry, Ron and Dumbledore sit quickly; Hermione choosing instead to perch on the bed beside me in support. 

"I won't take up too much of your time. You were quite correct in your assumptions about this being a school, although understandably vague about its purpose. My dear…" He pauses thoughtfully. "Before I begin, may I suggest you choose a name? I can hardly call you 'my dear' for the remainder of your stay."

My face falls. "You don't know my name?" I think I was expecting him to hand me my memories on some kind of platter. 

"Alas, one cannot presume to know everything. Not to worry – your memory may return in time. For the present…" I guess there's some kind of logic to this, but I can't think of a name to save my life. The Trio are all too happy to jump in with suggestions.

"I've a cousin called Mathilde who looks a bit like you…" Ron.

"Something easy to remember. Jane? Anne? Betty?" Hermione.

From the chair, Harry suggests softly " Lily?" The other three look at him silently. His eyes soften as he explains. "It was my mum's name." I don't ask about his choice of words, but instead test it out in my head. Lily. It's a pretty name, vaguely familiar. My decision is made. "I think… until I remember, that is, that I'll be Lily. Lily, um… " My eyes search the room, alighting on a small plaque fixed to the wall below an empty picture frame. " Asher."

Harry smiles. Dumbledore nods his agreement. " How fitting. Hebzibah Asher is renowned for his adaptation of Memory Charms. Very well… Miss Asher. Shall we begin?"

*********************************************************************

_Sunnydale_

Willow sighed as she stacked books. Three weeks had passed. Almost one whole month of learning to live without the Chosen One, but more importantly, without a friend and sister. Each of the Scoobs had begun the slow process of healing in their own way. It remained difficult to watch the town carry on in oblivion, not knowing that they had lost their sworn protector. 

For the most part, things were much the same. They walked. They talked. They shopped ( rarely, and then only for essentials). They sneezed. All the while knowing that Buffy had given up these privileges so that the rest of the world could have them. 

At present, a majority of the Scoobies were seated around their old meeting table in the Magic Box. Dawn, having returned to school a week earlier, was in English class, straining to keep her mind from wandering. 

Despite Giles' efforts to contact Hank Summers, the man remained untraceable; Social Services had relinquished custody to Giles until he could be found. They had insisted, however, that Dawn have regular counseling sessions, as well as returning to school. With only one week remaining before the holidays began, Dawn had decided that it was a lesser evil than being sent to a foster home.

Since 'that night', as it was referred to by all, Spike had left his crypt only to patrol, and occasionally to check on the 'Lil Bit. Willow kept the Summers' fridge stocked with blood, but Spike never entered the house, preferring instead to wait on the porch for Dawn to emerge. 

The Scoobs, previously only tolerant of Spike because of Buffy, now recognized his genuine concern for Dawn, and left him alone. He - 

"Willow! Stop daydreaming! I'm not paying you to lounge, I'm paying you to _organize_!"

Anya's voice interrupted Willow's thoughts. Standing quickly, swiping at her eyes, Willow resumed her task of alphabetizing the bookshelves, boring work at the best of times. The bell on the door tinkled, and Xander entered, slightly grimy from a day's work supervising a new building site. Anya hurried to him, raising her face for a kiss. Xander dutifully obliged.

Anya frowned. " You smell all paint-y! Go shower!" she stated abruptly, then smiled naughtily. " I could join you if you like. We could have sex! You could do that thing with the loofah!"

Xander spluttered, casting a glance toward Willow, whose ears had turned pink. He allowed Anya to lead him through the curtain and into what once was Buffy's training room. Catching sight of the dusty punching bag, his expression turned solemn.

"Not now, An. Maybe later? In the privacy of our own apartment?" He flicked his head toward the shop. "Minus an audience?"

Anya pouted. Her hands moved to her shirt as if to unbutton it, then pulled a thin gold chain from under it, on which hung a ring. Xander sighed, moving toward the shower. 

"You said I could show off my ring after….that night! It's been almost a month! I want everyone to make with the oohs and aahs! And presents! And a night out with the girls and some oiled male strippers! How much longer?"

Not turning, Xander spoke through gritted teeth. " When everyone is ready, Anya. When things settle down a little. When…"

Anya cut him off. " You mean when YOU'RE ready. What about me? I'm ready now! I know you miss Buffy," Xander flinched. Anya continued, " But you have to move on. Just like Joyce, she isn't coming back, and you're all sad, and this time I understand why." 

Anya paused and swiped away sudden tears. "She was my friend too! I miss her too, Xander. But she's not coming back this time. She's NEVER coming back!!"

Xander didn't bother to hold back his tears as Anya broke into gasping sobs. Turning to her, he held her as she choked out " I miss her too, Xander. I loved her too!"

*********************************************************************

_Hogwarts_

"So, to recap – I'm at Hogwarts, where you guys," this was directed at Harry, Ron and Hermione, "learn how to do real magic with wands and stuff. Harry found me on the Hogwarts grounds after I did a spectacular nose dive from a crackly ball of energy – minus parachute. Now I'm stuck here in this room until I'm no longer Forget-o-Girl." 

Hermione was quick to jump in. "We'll come visit you whenever we can, Lily, I promise." Ron wasn't far behind, glancing at Dumbledore before he spoke. " Fred and George – my brothers – sent me… some new books. We can, uh, read them together." Harry smirked, knowing full well that the Weasley twins were just as likely to send a book that would make you invisible or give you massive purple warts than to send one you could read. He doubted Dumbledore had been fooled.

Lily reached across the bed for the glass of water and sighed when her hand fell short. Before anyone had the chance to hand it to her, Lily said - "Don't you just wish you could make things fly sometimes?"

Harry ducked in fright as the glass promptly launched itself from the table and hurtled across the room to smash against the wall behind his head. He turned to Ron, water dripping down the back of his neck. " How very Fred-or-George of you, Ron." His friend looked back at him wide-eyed, then turned his gaze to Lily.

"What… how… what…"

Dumbledore appraised the small blonde girl calmly. "Three excellent questions, Mister Weasley. Lily, perhaps your trip through the portal has imbued you with certain new abilities – or perhaps the abilities were yours all along. Whatever the case, I believe I may have a solution to you being 'stuck in this room', as you call it…"

Had the walls been made of something other than stone, the castle would have been filled with the joy of the four teenagers as Dumbledore made his intentions clear.

*********************************************************************

A/N: So, to clarify – 'Lily' is Buffy. Buffy is 'Lily'. And I'm having flashbacks to Spike's 'Ben is Glory' speech. For those of you who are reading this post-revamp, the changes from now on will be obvious. I've just swapped their names. For the record, I can't be bothered writing Lily in inverted commas every single time. You'll live. : ) 

"So, you're saying that Buffy and Lily are connected somehow…" Uh huh. 

As for my reasons (someone has already asked and this has been posted less than an hour)… first and foremost, whether Slayer legend is known in the wizard world or not, surely someone with the smarts (say, Hermione) could connect the tales of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with Buffy the Hogwarts student. That would be pesky.

Second, I've scrapped the whole Hermione-uses-a-charm-to-identify-Buffy idea on the advice of my wonderful temporary beta, CinnamonGrrl. Much more interesting to have them all wonder. Ah, maybe I'm just evil.


	3. Secrets and Revelations

Disclaimer: If the HP world was truly mine, I would not have left my readers in suspense waiting for the next darn book to come out! And in Joss's case, the original Scoobies would still have ALL their body parts. Grr!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Chapter 3: Secrets and Revelations.**

_Hogwarts_

'The very latest article in Transfiguration Today – " Multiple Transfiguration: The Finer Points" – brilliant, just brilliant. They say old Bigglesworth is past his prime, but the man knows his incantations, I tell you….."

  Professor Flitwick's piping voice could be heard clearly above the unusual racket in the teacher's common room. At the Headmaster's request, the entire teaching staff had gathered, awaiting news which was apparently urgent. All students were (presumably) safely tucked in bed, and Filch was lurking in the hallways, waiting to catch anyone daring to leave their common rooms. 

Dumbledore himself was conspicuously absent, and many of the Professors were taking advantage of this. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were engaged in a loud and heated debate that switched from topic to topic so fast the other staff were becoming slightly dizzy. Madame Hooch was hunched over a tiny Quidditch field, feline eyes watching in interest as the figures darted around, shouting abuse at one another in mouse-like voices. 

Professor McGonagall, armed with fiery red quill, was poring over third year essays, frowning as she coated parchment after parchment with red strokes, occasionally muttering to herself. Hagrid, his bushy beard slightly singed after an incident with one of his infamous Blast-Ended Skrewts, occupied an enormous chair in front of the fire. Holding a thick branch, he was toasting an unidentified lump in the roaring flames.

Snape, as per usual, was glowering in a corner, clearly annoyed at being forced to leave his dark and unpleasant dungeon to congregate with the other members of the staff. Said staff members, used to his foul moods, were keeping their distance.

With a screech, one of the tiny Quidditch figures left the pitch and dove toward Snape, eyes fastened on a tiny glittering object hovering just above his left ear – a miniature Snitch.

Snape, feeling a small object whiz past his ear, batted it away impatiently, sending the figure to the ground. Instantly, outraged cries came from the other team members, who began to assault him with tiny fists, darting around his head. Snape rose in anger.

"Hooch! Kindly encourage these infernal creatures to desist at ONCE!" he roared, only to be cut off by one particularly irate figure flying into his mouth. Spluttering, he stumbled, upsetting a jar of red ink onto McGonagall's robes. 

Utter chaos erupted among the usually restrained staff. McGonagall stood, trying her best to preserve the newly marked essays, spraying a fine shower of red droplets in Flitwick's face. Hagrid dropped the charred object into the fire, which promptly exploded, shooting small fireworks around the room. Several staff members immediately conjured streams of water, one of which unfortunately drenched Snape from head to toe. Roaring, Snape made toward the culprit, red-faced and furious.

It was at this very moment that the Headmaster chose to make his entrance. Surveying the room, he did nothing, simply stood near the doorway wearing lurid green robes and a huge grin. One by one, staff members realized he had arrived, seating themselves quickly, until only Snape remained standing, dripping water and swatting at small flying figures.

"Severus – if you would be seated, we do have a lot to discuss tonight." Dumbledore said quietly, pointing his wand at Snape's robes and muttering 'infierni'. Cool blue flames shot from his wand, and in an instant Snape was dry and back in his corner, glowering.

Dumbledore suppressed a chuckle, and addressed the room in a calm voice.

"First of all, I have had reports from Argus that several students have taken it upon themselves to charm the suits of armor on the third floor into a constant duel with each other. The suits have been removed until further notice, or until we stop them creaking - it does disturb one's sleep. Second, several members of Slytherin house have complained their quarters are not properly being maintained." At this, Dumbledore paused, a twinkle in his eye.

" I have notified Slytherin house that in future, if their quarters are not to their liking, they are free to change them in any way they see fit. However, I have forbidden the use of magic in doing so – students must rearrange things with their hands, not their wands. I doubt they will be complaining in future."

Most of the occupants of the room hid a smile at these words, believing the occupants of said house would benefit from this. Snape's face went rather purple, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore poured himself a glass of water from the silver pitcher by the door, his expression now serious. 

" The final item of business tonight, and I do thank those of you who attended, is one I believe is of great importance – to this school and to the wizarding community. I will be announcing at breakfast tomorrow the arrival of a new student – a guest, if you may." Ignoring the startled looks, Dumbledore continued, "At this stage, there is not much I can tell you. She will be called Lily Asher for the duration of her stay, and she will be attending classes with our sixth year students to give the appearance that she is a normal exchange student."

Raising a tiny hand, Professor Flitwick spoke. " '_Called'_ Lily? But Albus – how can you not know her real name, not to mention her origin? Surely you can find out from the girl herself?"

Dumbledore shook his head. " The issue is a complicated one. Lily has no memory of her life before being found on the Hogwarts grounds by Harry Potter. Perhaps her memory will return in time. Until it does, I believe it is safer for her to remain at Hogwarts. She may be an asset to us in the future. I will inform everyone at once should new information arise. Now, if you will excuse me, I have urgent Ministry matters to attend to."

With that, Dumbledore was gone, leaving behind him a room of rather confused teachers. Voices raised as all bar Snape and McGonagall digested this new information.

"What does he mean, an asset? She's little more than a child!"

 "Ah, but so is Harry Potter – and just look at all he's faced"

 " You CAN'T apparate into Hogwarts – its impossible!"

 " Well how DID she enter then?" 

" What if this is a trick? You-Know-Who could be using her to get information!"

 " After last year, I don't think we should be taking risks – what if…."

Professor McGonagall stood up calmly, waving for silence. "We have no choice but to trust Albus on this matter. There is indeed something about this girl unlike anything we have seen before. Albus is confident she will benefit greatly from her time here, and will not be a threat. Let us have faith in his decision."

Sobered, the staffroom emptied quickly as professors hurried to their own quarters. In his office, Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself at Minerva's words. Indeed, this lost child had much to gain – and much more to give.

*********************************************************************

_Sunnydale_

In one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries, all was not still. A strange scraping disturbed the supposed rest of the dead. Two shadowy figures watched from the shelter of a large marble headstone as a newly-filled grave began to undulate. A snarling vampire emerged from the earth, sniffing the night air for fresh human blood. Yellow eyes narrowed as the vampire caught sight of potential prey. 

'Ahh……fresh meat…. Nothing smells better,' it hissed, springing toward the headstone. A non-heartbeat later, it was dust.

Rising from their hiding place, Xander and Willow brushed vampire dust from their clothes. Willow sneezed loudly. " Note to self: Don't hide downwind" she muttered ruefully, shaking dust from her hair.

"Ahh….the freshly dusted…..nothing smells more foul,' Xander quipped, reloading his crossbow clumsily. 

Without a Slayer to protect the Hellmouth, the original Scoobies had taken it upon themselves to patrol each night, tackling only the newly-risen fledglings. Although both Xander and Willow had gained considerable field experience since the summer when Buffy had run away; the larger and stronger looking demons were left to Spike, who usually patrolled well after the Scoobs had returned to the Summers' residence. Anya and Tara, who preferred research to slayage, usually remained at Revello Drive to keep an eye on Dawn.

'So that's – uh – three vampires to me….. and five to you. Damn – foiled again. By a girl no less, who is much weaker than – Ouch! Will!' Xander exclaimed, rubbing his arm, which had 'run into' Willow's hand. 

'Oh shush you, I barely touched you. Besides, it doesn't really count as a staking when a vampire FALLS on a pointy tree branch. Although….I'm ahead? Really? Yay me!' Willow did a little dance of glee, red hair flying. Sobering, she turned to Xander. ' Xand? Have you noticed that since – that night- there's a lack of nasties in town? Wouldn't it make more sense for the "big, ugly and undead" tally to rise without  Bu – without a slayer here? Mystical Mouth of Hell energy and all that. Where did all the Big Bad Evil things go?"

Xander paled, glancing over her shoulder. He gulped. 'Wills? Best-bud-o-mine? I think they're standing right behind you."

********************************************************************

_Hogwarts_

In the sweltering hot History of Magic classroom, eyelids drooped as Professor Binns droned on.

 "……And that marks the end of the seventy-fifth Great Goblin Rebellion. Now class, for homework……."

Harry, Ron and Hermione did not linger to hear their assignment, racing from the classroom and heading toward the fourth floor. Eager to tell Lily all about their lessons, they turned the corner and were about to provide the password to the tethered werewolf when a familiar voice rang out from behind them. 

"Well, what ARE we doing here? As I recall, Potter, sixth years are no longer required to take Astronomy – and yet, here you are, complete with Weasel and Mudblood. How interesting. Could it be you are looking for trouble?" 

Malfoy stepped from behind a thick wooden pillar, smirking, Crabbe and Goyle close behind him. The rivalry between the smug Slytherin and Harry had only increased over the years, if that was possible. It seemed to the Trio that Malfoy's main reason for living was finding reasons to deduct points from Gryffindor house, a hobby that Snape was more than willing to aid.

Harry felt Ron tense beside him, and shot him a warning look. Hermione too, looked torn between turning Malfoy into a familiar ferret and keeping her cool. The last thing they needed was for Snape to show up.

Malfoy was still waiting for a reaction, his eyes drifting to the snarling werewolf painting. "Well, Potter? I can have Snape here in an instant. What are you doing here?"

Harry opened his mouth to lie, when suddenly an amused voice sounded behind them.

"Actually, Mister Malfoy, they are here at my request. If you would be kind enough to return to your common room, I can begin their detention. Unless of course you want to join us?" 

The Trio whirled around to see Dumbledore emerging from a dark corner. Malfoy looked ready to argue, but suddenly turned on his heel and stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him. 

Harry hesitated a moment before speaking. " Professor – now that Malfoy is suspicious, what's to stop him poking around here? The entire school will know by tonight!"

Stroking his considerable beard, Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a minute.

"Well Harry, I believe you have a point. However, as Lily's presence is to be announced to the student body tonight at dinner, Master Malfoy will find much of the wind gone from his sails. Now, I'm sure Lily has been waiting for your company. Let's not keep her waiting."

Harry was fairly sure his jaw had just hit the ground. A glance at Ron and Hermione revealed their mouths were in a similar position. Amused, Dumbledore gave the password and the portrait hole slid open. He climbed through, motioning for the Trio to follow. His voice echoed from above.

"Master Weasley? Please watch your step this time – I hear the floor is rather hard."

Ron cursed under his breath, muttering to Harry.

"Is there anything that he doesn't know?"

*********************************************************************


	4. The Darkness Within

A/N: I'm not going to do a disclaimer because its been done in the last 3 chapters. And I don't think I know anyone who starts reading something halfway through!

For those of us who take time getting used to new things, I'll repeat. 'Lily' is Buffy. Simple, eh?

_"Pieces of us die everyday,_

_As though our flesh were hell,_

_Such injustice, as children we're told,_

_That from God we fell,_

_Where are my angels?_

_Where's my golden one?_

_Where's the hope now our heroes are gone?"_

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 4: The Darkness Within**

_Sunnydale_

Anyone looking through the bay window of 1630 Revello Drive could be forgiven for thinking its occupants were merely enjoying a quiet night of reading. Four figures were seated in the living room, each absorbed in large texts, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

In truth, the large demon texts were holding nobody's attention. 

Tara, nose buried in a particularly large Wicca tome, continued to glance at the clock on the mantelpiece.

^ _Midnight__. Where are they? They should have been back by now – just a quick patrol, __Willow__ said_. ^

Anya, apparently immersed in researching Quadra demons, was actually peering at pictures of bridal gowns and flower arrangements she had tucked inside the pages. 

^ _Hydrangeas would be nice – or white lilies perhaps. Hope Xander isn't broken for the wedding – we couldn't hang the photos on the wall for everyone to admire. Must speak to __Willow__ about arranging the oily male stripper night. And register my gift-list. I wonder if you can get coffee-makers in the Underworld? If Xander ever decides to ANNOUNCE the wedding, that is_. ^

Rupert Giles, staring at ancient Etruscan symbols, had not turned a page in what seemed like forever. His thoughts were of another time and place altogether, of a small tearstained face staring up at him, a young girl denying her prophesized destiny. 

His Buffy, refusing to abide by a strangers predictions, had faced her fears and fought for the world. Had proven that she, not a mystic force, would be master of her own destiny, regardless of the cost.

And where had he been all those years ago while his Slayer was drowning in a pool of stagnant water? Unconscious or not, he had promised to protect her – and he had failed. Only a miracle in the form of Xander had brought her back to them.

 He doubted anyone could bring her back to them now.

In the end, just as the beginning, she had faced the darkness alone. She had fought her way up the tower, burdened by the weight of the world on her shoulders. Been forced to make an impossible decision – alone.

Giles lowered his head, blinking sudden moisture from his eyes. 

^ _I failed her back then, and continued to fail her. Had I known more, read more, perhaps she would be here with us today. She was my slayer – more than that, she was the daughter I never had – and in the end, all I could do was watch as she sacrificed herself. Ironic_.^

Dawn was curled up in a corner, face hidden behind an ancient and irreplaceable demon text. She was sound asleep and drooling slightly.

***BANG!***

All heads raised in surprise as the front door flew open, revealing Spike, who was carrying Willow. Xander stumbled in behind him, dazed and bloody. Immediately the Scoobies sprung into action, Giles helping Spike settle Willow on the couch, Tara fetching the first aid kit, Dawn running to the kitchen for warm water and towels, and Anya turning to Spike, hands on hips.

"What did you do to my Xander? You **broke** him! How are we supposed to get married when he's all bloody?? Of all the ignorant, ungrateful, oof!"

Her angry tirade was cut short by Spike's hand on her mouth. His eyes were yellow.

" Not that it makes a soddin' difference to you lot, but I SAVED the witch and the whelp! Went and got bloody TRAPPED by a bunch of demons, they did! Would have been eaten whole if I hadn't been on my way back from Willie's!" he spat in a soft but dangerous voice. Anya stared at him, eyes wide, before wriggling from his grasp and rushing to Xander. He smiled weakly.

"I'm ok, Ahn, I promise. Had worse than this. Still conscious, so that's a plus," Xander tried to hug her, then hissed in pain. " Consciousness? Not all its cracked up to be."

From the couch, Willow moaned as Giles poured peroxide on her wounds. Tara stroked her hair, muttering under her breath. The others watched as Willow visibly relaxed, then bolted upright, eyes wild. Giles tried to push her down again, frowning.

" Giles – the demons – they were all chanting the same thing. Over and over. In between fighting. It was – err -

'_When Isthmus appears to reign o'er above / Battleground staged in the Dell of Sun'_ – 

There was some other stuff. Mainly grunting, coz demons? Not big on pronunciation. But definitely some more words too. Does this mean…ohh…."

Willow sank back onto the couch, exhausted. The room was silent for a beat. Then Spike cleared his throat.

"Err – Demon Girl? What's all this about you and the whelp getting hitched?"

*********************************************************************

" My Lord, we have found the one you spoke of. The one who can unlock the puzzle: the one who can set you on a path greater and more destructive than ever before. The one who can rid the world of Muggle-Born vermin. The one who can…."

With a flash of green light, the cloaked Death Eater dropped to the stone floor, immediately removed by several shadowy figures. The flickering candlelight suddenly seemed to dim as all attention focused on an ornate mahogany throne, upon which sat a shriveled figure. A hissing voice cut through the inky silence of the room.

"He tired me with his incessant ramblings. There remains little time for words. Bring me the prisoner."

Immediately, two Death Eaters left the inner circle and hurried from the room, only to return dragging a beaten and bloodied form. Dropping him at the base of the chair, the Death Eaters returned to their places within the circle. Azure eyes met blood-red, and the broken man began to babble in terror.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know – please – I beg of you – spare my life – have mercy…."

Lazily, Lord Voldemort rose from his chair and drew his wand from his robes. The man began to sob wildly, tears mingling with the blood on his cheeks. 

"Do you know who I am, muggle? I believe you do. I am what haunts you in your sleep. I am the shadow concealed in the darkest of nights. The most powerful men tremble in fear at the sound of my name."

Pausing, the Dark Lord lifted his head, narrowed eyes fixed on the shivering heap at his feet. His laugh, cold and cruel, echoed through the room.

"It is not in my nature to show mercy, for mercy is weakness. I despise weakness. However…." – here the man raised his head in hope – "….should you be of use to me, I will give you my word that your family will remain safe. Your fate is already sealed, muggle – there is no escaping that. Let your gift of information save the ones who will weep over your grave as maggots feed on your rotting flesh."

A shuddering moan came from the floor. Raising dulled eyes, the man nodded slowly, accepting his fate. " I will tell you all I know."

Voldemort slid into his chair, eyes glittering. Waving his hand, he motioned for the man to begin.

*********************************************************************

Lily stared at the grand wooden doors to the Great Hall, face slightly pale.

" Uh – guys? I don't think I can do this. I can't go in there and face all those people – all those questions. So maybe if I just go back to the tower and….."

Harry turned to face her, squeezing her hand in his own. He had been amazed how well she had accepted the situation she was in – no family, no identity – lost in a strange magical world full of things Muggles only saw in movies and dreams. It appeared that Lily was full of surprises.

He silently appraised her appearance; innocent in a grey pleated skirt and jumper over a white shirt, hair straight and shiny, looking for all the world like a true Hogwarts student. Dumbledore had provided some basic necessities – her uniform, a wand, some materials and books for lessons – as well as a generous allowance 'for her enjoyment'. In return, Lily would be required to do nothing more than participate in classes and make the most of her time at the school. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the Headmaster had a particular plan for his new friend – but as per usual, Dumbledore was waiting for 'the right time' to reveal them.

Harry was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by the familiar sound of Ron snickering. Startled, he glanced at Lily only to see her looking at him oddly, cheeks pinker than usual.

"Err – sorry – I was just thinking about you. I mean – you'll do great. And you have me – er – us." He stammered. Lily looked confused for a moment, then grinned at him. Releasing his hand gently, she approached the doors determinedly.

"Let's do this!" she said, pushing them open, the Trio close behind.

Inside, the feast was in full swing, hundreds of students seated at their house tables. Lily tried hard not to stare at the ceiling, which was glittering with stars. As students noticed her unfamiliar face, the Hall was filled with whispering voices. From the staff table, Dumbledore stood and beckoned for the small group to approach the front of the hall. The whispers faded into silence.

" Before we continue with our meals, I would like to welcome a new student into our midst. Lily will be joining the sixth year students at my personal invitation. During her time at Hogwarts, she is to be treated no differently than any of the other students. I trust you will make her feel welcome."

The students stared as Professor McGonagall carried a small stool and the Sorting Hat to the centre of the Hall. Lily turned to Harry, slightly worried.

"What's she doing with that moldy old hat?" She whispered. Harry snorted in amusement.

"That's the Sorting Hat – you put it on and it tells you which House you're in." he replied.

Lily thought about this. "And you guys are in Gryffindor – right? So I'll just tell it that's where I'm going. No biggie!" 

Harry frowned. " It's not that simple. It…well, it looks inside your mind and puts you in a house according to what it sees."

"What if my mind is empty? Is there a house for people with large chunks missing from their brains?"

Harry glanced at the Hufflepuff table, trying to hide a grin. "You'll be fine. We'll be right here."

Sighing, Lily perched on the stool and pulled the hat onto her head. It promptly slipped down, hiding her face from the Hall.

^ _How on earth is a hat supposed to read my mind_? ^ she wondered, waiting for some kind of signal that she was done.

A small, kind voice sounded close to her ear, startling her. " That, my dear, is my little secret. Now let's see. Well, well, well. Aren't you a tricky one to place. A good dose of loyalty  – perhaps Hufflepuff is the place for you. Plenty of bravery – courage and strength quite unusual for your age. A confounding sense of humor. And power – untapped and unrestrained power. Dark power. You could be quite a dangerous weapon, my dear. But where to put you? "

Lily clenched her fists and concentrated hard. ^ _Please, please, please – not the slimy snake house. They give me the __wiggins__. Plenty of dark mojo in that house. I'm not evil. I'm not! _^

"No – you're not evil. Not _yet_. The dark is strong within you. Best you learn to harness your power among friends." Suddenly, the voice rose above the murmurs in the hall. "**GRYFFINDOR**!"

A cheer rose from the Gryffindor table as Lily tried to pull the Sorting Hat from her head. It refused to budge. A rasping, sinister voice, quite different to the cheery voice of before, sounded in her ear.

"_You think you know – what you are – what's to come? You haven't even begun_." 

With a final tug, Lily pulled the hat from her head, breathing fast. Blinking furiously to hide sudden tears, she moved toward the Gryffindor table and slipped into a seat between Harry and Hermione, her hands shaking. Harry, talking with a girl who closely resembled Ron (same fiery hair), smiled at her briefly, then returned to his conversation. 

"Lils, do you want some – hey, are you alright? You look, well, frightened." Hermione said softly, noticing her pale face. Lily managed a weak smile, hiding her hands under the table.

"I'm okay – just tired I guess," she said in a voice she hoped was close to normal.

Hermione decided not to press the issue. "I'm so glad you're a Gryff – I just KNEW you would be. I suppose you'll get your tie and things later when we go to our common room – we can give you the grand tour! Want some juice? Pumpkin? It's delicious, really……" she chirped brightly, sighing in relief when her friend began to relax.

Lily was trying to concentrate on what Hermione was saying, but her thoughts kept drifting back to what the hat had said. Was she truly the evil, dangerous creature the hat had seen inside her mind? Had she been sent here to be protected – or to protect another world from what was inside her?

*********************************************************************

A/N: Sorry for the extreme lameness of the 'chant' – I really suck at that kind of thing. Also for the abrupt chapter end –  15 pages is really too long for one chapter so I had to split it. *chapter 5 coming soon*


	5. Helpless

A/N: I have to say that this chapter was the hardest to write yet – apologies for my evil side, I don't get to use it much and it is a little rusty. I'm working on it though. 

Once again, not going to do a disclaimer – everyone knows they're not mine. *tear*

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 5: Helpless**

"It has begun, my love," Lucius Malfoy announced, striding into the Malfoy's majestic dining room, coat billowing behind him in a perfect picture of, well, evil.

House elves scattered in terror as he swept the room with a glare, before seating himself in a tall chair at the head of the ornate table. Narcissa turned to him, her frosty eyes meeting his own.

" Lucius, do enlighten me. You bring news of the Dark Lord, I assume?" Narcissa reclined slightly in her chair, one pale eyebrow raised. Lucius had been absent from Malfoy Manor for days, leaving no word of his destination or when he was due to return. Narcissa knew without a doubt that her husband, a member of Voldemort's inner circle, had been consorting with said Dark Lord during this time. 

Lucius raised a delicate crystal goblet, wrapped with a golden snake, to his lips and sipped at the blood-red fluid casually. Narcissa restrained herself from drumming her fingers on the table, instead smiling encouragingly at her ever-dramatic husband. Finally, he began.

" With the help of his spies in the Ministry, Our Lord has learned of a prophecy detailing his rise to an even greater strength than before, and a subsequent battle that shall upset the balance between dark and light. However, certain elements of the prophecy were a mystery to even the Dark Lord himself. Lacking the ability to interpret them, he located someone who could."

_"Master, we have searched the globe, and have finally found someone who can help you. We have located him in __California__, __America__. He is known as a 'Watcher' – indeed he is quite high in the ranks of what is known as the Watcher's Council.." _

_The Death Eater who had spoken dissolved back into the crowd, lest Voldemort decide to punish him for entertainment. The Dark Lord had been particularly vicious lately, and many of his loyal followers had felt his anger. _

_However, an expression that could be described as a kind of brutal pleasure was currently twisting the sinister face that sat in front of them, Nagini curled at his feet._

_"Your information pleases me, Zabini. The Watcher's Council has long been a source of irritation to my cause. This 'Watcher' may be useful to us. And, if he proves he is not – the world will be free of another useless Muggle. __Crabbe__, Goyle – fetch him."_

_From the back of the large, dark room, a trembling voice spoke. "My Lord, what of the Slayer? Surely we do not wish for her to come after us?"_

_Voldemort reached out a skeletal hand and lazily stroked Nagini's skin. His voice, soft as it was, filled the room. " The Slayer will not pose a threat to us. My sources inform me that the latest sacrificed her pitiful life to save the Muggle world. The Slayer line has been unexplainably stalled. Unlike many more useful creatures, Slayers are essentially muggles. They tend to stay dead."_

_A relieved murmur filled the room. None of the Death Eaters wished to battle with a Slayer, muggle or not. _

_Lord Voldemort leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed. The man who had spoken was suddenly isolated from the crowd, propelled into the centre of a circle where he lay writhing under the influence of the Cruciatus curse. The room fell silent except for his screams._

_" I__ trust there are no more questions?"_

Lucius paused, his eyes shining. Drinking again from his goblet, his eyes moved appreciatively over his wife's body. Days of abstinence had left him hungry – and not for food alone. 

Narcissa returned his glance with one of her own, eyes burning from beneath heavy lids. Lucius rose in his chair eagerly, then stopped as his wife held up a slim hand. 

" Do finish your story, darling. What of this 'Watcher'?"

Groaning, Lucius returned to his seat, continuing.

" The Watcher was located, and brought before Our Lord. He was stubborn, but like all Muggles, his weakness was in his family. The foolish man believed that if he complied with the Dark Lord's requests, they would be spared….."

_On the cold stone floor of  the underground cavern, a filthy, emaciated figure lay curled into a ball of pain. His suit, previously immaculate, was in tatters, coated with his own blood. His graying hair had been torn out in chunks by his own fingers, the constant agony of the Cruciatus curse too much for his aged body to withstand._

_His blue eyes, once full of wisdom and knowledge, stared blankly into nothingness. He, having shared all he knew about the prophecy, had finally succumbed to the growing darkness, knowing that his death would keep his family safe._

_Lord __Voldemort__ eyed the body with triumph. The Watcher had served his purpose – had unlocked many of the secrets of the ancient prophecy. The Dark Lord could almost taste the power, fiery and sweet on his tongue. There was but one thing left to do._

_"Find this man's family. His friends. Kill them – kill them all."_

A thoughtful look crossed Lucius's face. 

"This Watcher believed that an object of immense dark power has been created. That this object shall be protected by a powerful force for light. Perhaps that old fool Dumbledore is responsible for this. It is time for Draco to show his loyalty to Our Lord – I shall send word to him at once."

 Summoning a quill and parchment from his library, he began writing furiously. So intent was he upon his task, he missed Narcissa's thoughtful look .

*********************************************************************

_Hogwarts_

Lily frantically pulled her heavy robes over her school uniform, fastening the star-shaped clasp. Running a brush through her hair, she slipped her wand into her pocket and raced through the portrait hole toward the Great Hall.

_^I can't believe they left me to sleep – this is the third time I've missed breakfast! Way to make an impression on Dumbledore. When I – ^_

Lily's thoughts were interrupted as she rounded a corner and collided with a solid object. Staring up at them from her landing spot on the floor, her eyes widened.

" If it isn't Mystery Girl! Forgotten who your friends are again?" Malfoy sneered, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. 

Lily had a sudden urge to slap the smirk off his face. In the two weeks she had been at Hogwarts, she had developed a dislike for the Slytherin prefect that Ron had assured her was a mandatory part of Hogwarts life. Somehow, he had found out the true reason for her being at Hogwarts, and he had taunted her incessantly since – always when Harry and her fellow Gryffindors were not within earshot. Lily gritted her teeth, choking down her sudden anger.

_^ I won't let him get to me. I won't let him get to me. I won't let him - ^_

" Did they abandon you? You must be used to that by now, surely. Being abandoned, that is. Why, even …." 

Malfoy didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, a tiny, blonde, whirlwind of anger knocking him flat on his back before he could blink. 

Breathless, he opened his eyes to find Lily sitting on his chest, one hand pinning him to the ground with a powerful grip. Her eyes were blazing with anger and something else he could not decipher. 

_^Who would've thought she was so strong – she looks so delicate…^_

For a moment, Malfoy was afraid of her. The eyes staring back at him seemed out of place in her gentle face, almost wild. He was frozen, unaware of the spectacle they were creating. Students moving to classes had stopped in awe at the sight of tiny, gentle Lily restraining Malfoy, who looked petrified. Laughter rose among the crowd, many delighted to see the nasty Slytherin cowed at last.

From the back of the crowd, a furious voice roared "WHAT is going on here? Get to your classes immediately. Lily - Malfoy! Come with me!" Students fled as Professor Snape pushed his way through the crowd, face pinched in anger.

Slowly, Lily released her grip and stood, her eyes now wide and frightened. For a moment, Malfoy thought she was going to turn and bolt from the corridor. Snape seemed to get the same impression, for he turned quickly, robes and nostrils flaring. As if under the Imperius curse, Lily and Malfoy silently followed him, their eyes fixed to the floor. 

*********************************************************************

_Hogwarts, later that night_

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with the news that had traveled through the school like wildfire – Lily had somehow pinned Draco Malfoy to the floor outside the Great Hall. Neither student had been seen since breakfast.

" I heard she Stunned him – had him down in a second, then held him with ONE FINGER!" an excited third year was chattering.

" No, sparks came from her EYES, then she used the Leg-Locker Curse and he flew across the room!" another countered.

A fourth year joined their conversation. "You're all wrong," he declared, seating himself in an overstuffed armchair by the fire. " FIRST she apparated in from NOWHERE, then she FROZE Crabbe and Goyle with a single flick , THEN she levitated over Malfoy used the CRUCIATUS curse on him! Erica Mordehorf told me in Divination – and she was THERE!"

Stunned silence met his exclamation, before a first year cried " We'll ask Harry! Lily's his friend!" Instantly, Harry, Hermione and Ron (who were in a corner playing Exploding Snap) were set upon by excited juniors, all clamoring to know what exactly had happened. Harry stood, waving his arms for quiet. 

" We don't KNOW what happened. We haven't seen Lily OR Malfoy since…."

Suddenly all eyes turned to the portrait hole, which had swung open. Lily climbed through slowly, her face haunted. She looked up in surprise as the room exploded in cheers and whistles. Colin Creevey moved toward her, camera in tow.

"Lily! You were brilliant! Can I have your picture? We could put it on the wall – a tribute to the girl who finally put Malfoy in his place! How did you do it? Did you use an Unforgivable? Did you really shoot sparks from your eyes? Boy, he deserved it though, didn't he!"

Hermione watched her friend carefully, worried at her haggard appearance. As Colin raised his camera, Lily forced a smile, eyes cloudy with emotion. For a moment, the common room was filled with the light from the flash, and by the time Hermione's vision had cleared, Lily was gone.

*********************************************************************

_Sunnydale.___

The bell over the Magic Shop door tinkled softly, startling the occupants. A figure wrapped in a smoking blanket burst through, cursing violently. Xander and Willow watched in amusement as Spike shook off the blanket and retreated to the safety of the shade, his hair singed. 

" Never was one for tanning. Still, I'd like to know what was so bloody urgent that I was dragged from my crypt in the middle of the day. In the middle of Passions, no less! Charity was just about to fry that poor lil bloke Timmy! Always did think she was a bit evil – blondes, they're all the same." Catching sight of Dawn, he amended his statement. "Well, there are some exceptions. C'mon then, out with it."

Giles removed his glasses from their perch on his nose and began to clean them absentmindedly, ignoring the muffled snort from Xander's direction. Extracting an ancient book from the growing pile, he handed it to Spike.

" Cor – so this is it then? The thing that's got Sunnydale's evil in a chanting, maiming frenzy? Looks important – too bad I'm not fluent in ancient Garkowl or whatever the hell that is."

Giles sighed in exasperation, opening his mouth….only to be cut off by Anya. 

"Its not Garkowl, it's a form of ancient Gla'shnik. A bad one, if you ask me. The grammar is all wrong – not to mention the spelling… atrocious! Why, if I had written such a piece of rubbish…… Why are you all staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?" Checking a mirror, and finding her teeth sparkling white, she glowered at everyone in turn. "What??"

Giles shot her a half-hearted glare. " Anya….you never felt it important to mention, in the three hours that we've been sitting here combing demon language texts, that you KNOW of this language?"

Anya rolled her eyes at him. " Know of it? I helped CREATE it! While simultaneously flaying a shepherd who had cheated on his wife with the cowgirl from the neighboring field – she wanted him shorn like his sheep – quite a fitting punishment if you ask……WHAT! Xander, make them stop glaring!"

Spike grinned, always on the lookout for an opportunity to needle the whelp. " That's it, Right Honorable Representative from Syphilis, be a good little wife and support Demon Girl over here." He ducked as a heavy text was thrown his way. " Oi!"

" Shut your trap, Fangless" Turning to Anya, Xander smiled encouragingly. 

"Ahn, hon, d'ya think you could help us out and translate this itty bitty passage – just the first thousand words or so? Not too great with the obscure demon jargon over here."

Anya wrinkled her nose, but accepted the heavy book anyway, grumbling under her breath. Giles blinked as he made out the words 'orgasm' and 'naughty nurses', but decided wisely to let it slide.

Ten minutes later, after Xander and Spike had thrown every insult they could think of and were now sitting in opposite corners of the room; Anya finally looked up, beaming. Shoving a piece of paper in front of Giles, she returned to the cash register to continue counting the day's takings.

Giles sat silently staring at the translation for an age, the Scoobs waiting rather impatiently for him to share the secret. Xander finally broke the silence.

"C'mon, G-Man, spill! Apocalypse? Big slimy mayor snake – no wait; been there, killed that, got the 'key-guy' t-shirt. What's the new Big Bad?"

Giles massaged his temples, suddenly looking impossibly aged. 

" Something far worse. An evil that we cannot fight with our weapons. An evil that will cast a shadow of dark across the world – one that has never been truly defeated before – merely weakened. An evil that Buffy created, and more importantly, an evil that I believe we cannot destroy without her." 

*********************************************************************

A/N: I looove cliffhangers! Well, semi-cliffhangers anyway. 


	6. Keeping the Faith

A/N: Just to make something clear – Buffy is actually a few months YOUNGER than the Trio in this fic. As Buffy screens later in Australia than the USA, I actually have no idea when her birthday is. Anyone who does know and wants to share?

^ denotes thoughts^

_"Courage is not defined by those who fought and did not fall, but by those who fought, fell, and rose again." _

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**Chapter 6: Keeping the Faith**

_#Sunnydale#_

The Magic Box was deadly silent following Giles' speech. Even Anya had left her place at the cash register and joined the others at what was affectionately known as the 'Scooby table'. The sun had long since set and darkness had spread its inky fingers around the room, oblivious to those who occupied it.

Willow and Xander, the remaining original Scoobies, were sitting close together as if to draw comfort from each other. Around the table, all were stunned as they tried to process the information. Xander was the first to break the silence, the uncharacteristically somber tone of his voice making everyone look up.

"So – the Cliffs Notes version – Buffy gave her life to save the world, only to create a demon that's going to destroy it anyway…. And we can't fight it without her. Where does that leave us? "

Giles sighed, for the first time allowing the hopelessness of their situation to sink in. 

Looking at the dejected faces of the young people he had grown to love as his own, he suddenly felt weary and ancient. And helpless. These were the faces of children who had been forced to grow up too fast, simply to protect themselves from the horrors to which the rest of the world seemed immune. Young adults with ancient eyes, whose hearts were still raw and aching from the loss of the one person who had made their mismatched group whole. 

A person who was more to them than just 'the one girl in all the world' – more than just the Slayer – their Buffy.

" That's it? That's all we're gonna do? Sit around and bloody MOPE??"

Spike had risen from his chair, eyes blazing. Ignoring Giles' unspoken warning, he studied each of their faces in turn before continuing

" Is that what she would have wanted? Christ, she gave her life so we could see this sorry world to the end, and you're all just giving UP? So it's the end of the world – so bloody what? We've all been here before, staring an apocalypse in the face - hell, I've even started some of 'em myself. If the Sl – Buffy's – death means anything to you people, you won't shut your eyes and pray that someone else will save the world FOR you. You'll grit your teeth and you'll FIGHT for everything you love about this sodding life. You'll 'rage against the dying of the light'." Spike paused for a minute, watching as heads were raised and backbones were steeled, before continuing in a softer voice. 

"The Slayer isn't here to win our battles for us. But if you think for a moment that she would want us to take this lying down, then she died for nothing. Fight to protect everything Buffy sacrificed when she leapt from that bloody tower. Fight for HER."

Yet another silence fell as Spike slumped into a chair, spent. Willow cleared her throat nervously.

"So…. Research party?"

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts.#_

"Lily? May I come in?" Hermione knocked cautiously on the door to the sixth year girls' dormitory, hearing quiet sobs coming from inside. Below her, she could just make out the subdued chatter from the Gryffindor common room. 

Her fellow housemates had been puzzled over Lily's sudden exit, expecting her to be as elated as they were about the downfall of the Slytherin Prince. Rumors had been running wild since; Hermione had left Harry and Ron behind to make sure nothing got out of hand while she went after Lily. 

Worried, Hermione pushed open the door and stepped inside the room, quietly approaching the windowsill where Lily sat staring out at the Forbidden Forest. Knowing that Lily would open up if and when she wanted to, Hermione settled herself on the opposite end of the  wide sill, facing her friend. For a long while, the two girls sat silently, each lost in her thoughts. 

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think I'm evil?"

Hermione's eyes met Lily's in disbelief, her expression softening as she saw the confusion in their stormy hazel depths. Lily continued softly, hugging her knees to her chest.

" The night I was sorted – the Sorting Hat said I was a dangerous weapon. That I was full of dark power. I didn't want to listen to a mangy head-piece… but today….. when Malfoy cornered me, I FELT it rush through me. It was like…one minute, I was me – and the next, ***I*** disappeared and all that was left was white-hot power – power I couldn't name or control. So maybe the Hat was right. Maybe I'm here because somewhere - wherever I came from - I was too dangerous to be allowed to stay."

"Or perhaps, Lily, you are here for an entirely different reason."

Both girls turned in surprise toward the fireplace, where Dumbledore's head was floating in mid-air. Hermione, after many nights spent with Harry while he talked to Sirius, was used to this form of communication. Lily, who was entirely shocked at the sight, overbalanced and barely managed to prevent herself from falling onto the thick maroon carpet beneath her. Dumbledore's head smiled.

"Your reflexes continue to amaze me, my dear."

Hermione swore she could see a flicker of mischief in the Headmaster's eyes. From the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny smile appear on Lily's face.

" Reflexes or not, it's usually considered polite to call before you just stick your head into other people's fires." 

Far from being annoyed at Lily's wisecrack, Dumbledore chuckled heartily as he stepped from the flames. Brushing ash from his lurid purple robes, the great wizard settled himself into an armchair. Hermione stood, intending to leave the two alone. Professor Dumbledore was quick to intervene.

"Miss Granger, please do not feel compelled to leave. Perhaps you too can benefit from this – whether you know it now or not."

Curious, Hermione resumed her position next to Lily, who was intently watching the Headmaster. She wondered idly if he would ever give any of them a straight answer. 

" On the contrary, Miss Granger, I find it is much more rewarding to solve your own mysteries. Strengthens the mind."

Dumbledore did not even give Hermione a chance to blush – sensing Lily's growing agitation, he fixed thoughtful eyes on her pale face.

" I believe it was once said that there is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to use it. In truth, power exists in many forms. Some of the greatest wizards draw their power from the fear they incite in others – while others are powerful because they hold within their hearts compassion, love, and above all, loyalty. Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

Lily nodded uncertainly. " That – that it doesn't matter where power comes from…..it's what you use it for?"

"Precisely. The origins of your power may indeed lie in darkness, but even dangerous weapons in the right hands can be used for immeasurable good. I might add that simply because something is considered dangerous does not mean it is evil. It can become evil, if it so chooses – yet it can also choose to reside in the light. The difference between the two rests in your heart."

Dumbledore reached into his robes, withdrawing a wrapped sweet which he held in his open palm for a moment. 

" Take sherbet drops for example. No matter how strong the shell surrounding the sweet, it is the fizz inside that completes its taste. Should the centre be hollow, it loses that certain something which allows it to rise above others of its kind. Once a weakness in the shell appears, a hollow sherbet drop can be cracked open with less effort than one might think. It is merely a matter of finding the weakness." 

Both girls blinked as the Headmaster seemed to disappear before their very eyes, his words echoing in the dormitory. Lily turned to Hermione in confusion.

"Is he always that hard to understand? And – sherbet drops? Cryptic much?"

Hermione frowned. Something told her that Dumbledore hadn't been strictly referring to sweets.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

"So, Watcher, let's hear what you've got so far, 'cos all I've come up with is a whole lot of nothing." Spike grumbled softly, leaving his dimly lit space in the corner to stand behind Giles. Giles sighed and began to clean his glasses.

"Don't want to wear the lenses out, G-man." Ignoring the glare sent his way, Xander slammed his book shut. " Nothing in the Nirehkahn Codex. Or in any of the other hundred dusty books we've tried. Surely there's something in this place that can help us fight magic – hello, MAGIC Shop after all."

" Maybe if you read the prophecy again? I mean, someone might know something. Or know of someone who knows something. Or know of someone who knows of some…..."

"Alright Willow – I believe you have made your point. According to the text, remains of an ancient stone tablet were located in 1894. Apparently it was buried by a forgotten tribe somewhere around 1296 AD – no Anya, you may NOT interrupt – a tribe which then disappeared from existence. Historians have long searched for the source of the language upon the tablets, however none have succeeded. Last year, a member of the Watchers Council stumbled upon a dialect similar to that of the tablets……."

"Giles – as fascinating as the history lesson is…. Can we hear the prophecy? Before the world ends?"

"Right. Erm…." Giles cleared his throat.

"_Blood of the Chosen given freely, _

_ Puzzle of Dark shall be made whole_

_ Revived with a gift of blood and torture_

_ He shall rise to reign once more_

_ Gift of the __Chosen__ cannot be returned_

_ Nor matched by another whose name rings trust_

_ When Isthmus appears to reign o'er above_

_Battle__ is lost in the Dell of Sun."_

For the first time in hours, Dawn's voice echoed in the shop, slightly hysterically.

"Torture? Buffy was TORTURED when she jumped into the portal?"

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts, later the same night#_

There's so much light in the room. Must have left the drapes open – is it morning already? Seems like I only just closed my eyes.

"That's because you did, B." A voice I don't recognize – yet something inside my head floats to the surface, before slipping away once again.

My eyes snap open and I feel them widen. How did I end up in a cemetery? Last time I checked, I was at Hogwarts……

"You are there. And yet you're here as well. Figure it out – you always were the smart one." A dark-haired girl steps out from behind a marble angel, dressed in leather and wearing a mysterious grin. I've never seen her before…..have I? And why does she keep calling me 'Bee'? 

"This is a dream – isn't it? Do I know you? Who am I?" So many questions to answer. She shakes her head slowly.

"Right on the mark with the first one, B. Not my place to say. Just call me…..a friend."

"Maybe I don't want a friend!" I counter, tears threatening to spill as I realize that she can't – won't – help me.

"I didn't say I was yours."

Why does that sound so achingly familiar? She's grinning at me, and I can't help clenching my fists in frustration.

" And to think I had you pegged as the patient one, B. You'll find your answers when you're ready."

I'm ready *now*!! Will *anyone* ever give me a straight answer? 

" Listen up B. Big things are coming your way. Evil things. To defeat 'em, you gotta know how they think, how they kill, what they feed on. In the end it's all about the weakness. We've all got one. Sometimes, you gotta let them inside you to get it – just make sure you tie the rope good and tight before you let yourself fall."

She snaps her fingers, and I close my eyes as the world seems to blur. When I open them, we're no longer in the cemetery, but a dark forest. The wind has turned ice-cold, wrapping its icy fingers around my skin. I shiver. Was it night a minute ago?

" Told you before, B. Normal rules don't apply here. Not that it matters much. I got a story for you."

I stare. "I don't understand. I'm here so you can tell me fairy tales?"

She continues as if I haven't spoken. " A caterpillar is born helpless, unable to protect itself from predators who wish for nothing more than its destruction. In time, it learns other ways of defence. It becomes a creature of the shadows, where it is harder to detect. Some learn to change their appearance. Others secrete a hidden and deadly poison which in turn destroys those who dare to devour them." 

Her eyes lock onto mine, suddenly impossibly sad. Despite her youthful appearance, her eyes tell a tale of one who has endured too much in a short time. Something in them reminds me of the look Harry wore when he told me about his parents – a lifetime of pain and suffering contained in a single glance. I suddenly find myself filled with anger at whoever caused her such anguish. Her eyes shift away as she continues.

"After awhile, the caterpillar, tired of living life with the threat of death constantly lurking in the back of its mind, fashions a cocoon for itself and withdraws from the world, hoping to find some semblance of peace if only for an instant."

Why do I suddenly want to cry again? I force myself to listen.

"While it hovers between one existence and another, it begins to change, and once Destiny has worked its mojo, a butterfly emerges into a different world. The butterfly, now able to defend itself in other ways, will gradually forget what it was like to be a caterpillar, until the day it is faced with a familiar predator. Though it may not remember its time as a caterpillar at first, it still retains all the knowledge about survival it gained deep inside." 

I interrupt, confused. "What do…." She stops me with a single hand movement.

"Patience, B. The butterflies that survive are those who can draw deep within themselves, combining old strengths and new to defeat their enemies. See, it's all there in their heart and head. You just gotta have faith."

The new information runs over and over inside my mind, as I try to process all I've just been told. Finally she allows me to speak.

" Why are you telling me this? Why now? I don't understand – I just want to know who I am!"

She smiles gently as my vision begins to blur, colors and shapes fading until only her voice remains.

" Don't you listen? _You already know_."

The world fades to black.

*********************************************************************

A/N: Did everyone guess who the 'mysterious stranger' was? Stay tuned..... coming up in Chapter 7, Buffy and Snape face off with some....interesting results. Also, a special appearance from a certain LA contingent. Please R/R!


	7. Toil and Trouble

A/N: I'm bowled over by the amount of people who've taken the time to review. Keep it coming guys….

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and Co, BtVS/ AtS is the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, also known as the "Evil Sadistic Xander Mutilating Fiends". Grr, Argh indeed!

Note to self: Off soapbox, onto story.

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**Chapter 7: Toil and Trouble**

_#Hogwarts#_

It had been almost two weeks since Lily had humiliated the Slytherin Prince. Two weeks since the mysterious girl had appeared in her dream. During this time, Lily had tried her hardest to concentrate in her classes, wanting to live up to Dumbledore's expectation that she make the most of her time at Hogwarts. To everyone's surprise, including her own, she had proven quite good at 'this wacky magic stuff' (as she called it), although she had a slight tendency to overdo things. 

Lily's first Charms class had proved disastrous; when trying to master a simple floating charm, she had not only set the feather alight, but the desk as well. Her Professors were somewhat stunned by the amount of power within the small girl; Dumbledore finally providing her with simple control exercises which had kept the Charms classroom flame-free. 

Since then, she had come on in leaps and bounds. Though far from a perfect student (she held no great affection for either Herbology or History of Magic), Lily appeared eager and willing to learn about the world she was now residing in.

However, there were some classes that one simply ***couldn't*** concentrate in. Sitting between Harry and Ron in the hazy Divination classroom, Lily had to force herself to focus on what Professor Trelawney was saying. 

" Class, my Inner Eye has informed me that it is time for us to begin our study of dreams. A dream is a tangible thing. It takes one who is truly Connected to the Higher Powers to………"

Beside Lily, Harry was on the verge of groaning out loud. Trying to look as though he was taking detailed notes as the bat-like woman droned on and on, he slid a piece of parchment under the table to Ron. 

_+Wish the old bat would ditch the fire – I think I'm starting to melt. Wonder whose death she predicted this year? There should be a wall of fame for the __Chosen__ Possibly Dead Ones.+_

Ron snorted with laughter, quickly disguising it as a cough when Trelawney's misty gaze drifted toward them. He scratched furiously on the parchment with his quill.

_+Not yours – we'd have noticed by now. Probably one of the first years. Remind me when we choose our subjects next year that this is the **most boring** 'easy A' class ever. Maybe we'll get lucky and the Divination room will burn down. What've we got next?+_

Harry didn't get the chance to reply as the class began moving around him. Startled, he looked helplessly toward Lavender Brown who was nearest to them. She passed their table, pausing to whisper to Lily, who grinned. Both girls shot exasperated looks at the Professor, something that Harry was only just getting used to seeing from Lavender. Previously a Trelawney-devotee, Lavender had abandoned her affection mid-fifth year after Trelawney had used her powers of 'prediction' in an attempt to damage Lavender and Parvati Patil's friendship. Parvati, needless to say, had not chosen to continue with Divination through sixth year, easy pass course or not.

Lily turned to the boys.

"Ol' Bat Features wants us to analyze our dreams and write her two rolls of parchment interpreting them – due by next class. She'll mark them according to what her 'Inner-Eye-for-pain-and-torment' tells her. She also predicted that someone in this room will be leaving at the end of the year."

Ron snorted again as they filed down the ladder into what he liked to call 'the sane world'. " We'll all be leaving at the end of the year – for the summer holidays. What a bloody amazing prediction!"

"Ron! Don't swear!" Hermione admonished, appearing from her Arithmancy class and falling into step with the trio as they headed toward the dungeons for Potions.

Ron shot a mock-glare at Hermione even as he groaned at the thought of another lesson with Snape. " Is it our fate to be cursed for eternity with double Potions plus a dose of Slytherin? Why, cruel world, why?" Harry grinned at his dramatics as they descended the staircase behind Neville Longbottom. Even after six years, the nervous boy still shook like a leaf at the thought of facing Professor Snape.

Said Professor was currently glaring at the group as they hurried to their seats. His eyes rested for a moment on Lily Asher, who had managed to firmly insert herself into the little group, a feat no other student had accomplished. She had taken a seat next to Longbottom and was currently whispering to him, no doubt trying to give him strength for the coming lesson.

"Miss Asher, if you are _quite_ finished babbling incessantly, _do_ allow me to start the lesson." 

Not allowing her to reply, he rose from his desk and cast a cold glare around the room. 

" Today you shall be attempting to brew a freeze-flame potion. At the conclusion the lesson, I will choose a student to assist me in testing their concoction. Now, which of you can tell me what this potion is used for? Ahhh… Longbottom. Do enlighten us with your continued wit and wealth of knowledge."

The round-faced boy went even paler than usual, his hands trembling. His voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak. 

" Freeze-flame….. used for n-numbing the er….drinker….. from the effects of f-fire. A complex p-potion that has to be timed j-just right for it to work."

" Better than your normal standard, Longbottom. However, I fear it may be too complex for the likes of you. We shall see if you can prove me wrong, though I sincerely doubt it."

The Gryffindor gulped as he collapsed into his chair. Snape returned to his desk, motioning for the class to begin. After awhile, he rose and circled the room, watching the Gryffindor side carefully lest the insufferable Granger attempt to assist Longbottom. To his surprise, it was not Granger, but Lily Asher who was whispering into the unfortunate boys ear. His furious voice rang through the room.

"Miss Asher, I am sure Longbottom is perfectly capable of botching the task all on his own. I do not recall asking for your assistance. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape whirled sharply, robes flaring as he headed toward his desk. An equally furious voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, as far as popularity goes, you're fighting a losing battle."

The room went deathly quiet as Snape turned, eyes flashing. His voice, little more than a whisper, chilled many of the wide-eyed students to the bone. The small blonde figure at whom his rage was directed did not move.

"What did you just say to me?"

Lily stood her ground. " What's your childhood trauma? It wouldn't kill you to direct the tall, dark and cranky to someone else for a change."

Snape actually found himself taking a step backwards from the angry girl. He could practically *see* the power radiating from her form in shimmering waves. She continued, eyes narrowed.

" It obviously doesn't matter to you though. You chose Neville because you know he won't stand up to you. Because he's scared of you, like most of the students. Newsflash – there are badder, more unwashed nasties outside these walls. You don't scare me."

By this time, said students were watching wide-eyed as Snape's face turned an alarming shade of purple. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Several cringed as he opened his mouth.

"Miss Asher, I believe you have said enough. You will see me tonight after dinner, in my office. Class is dismissed." His voice came out strangled, but still controlled. 

Nobody moved.

"OUT! NOW!" 

Within an instant, the room was empty. Snape leant against his desk, his lip curled in a half-smile, half-sneer. The sight of her daring to stand up to him was possibly one of the most startling things he had ever seen, and yet he was not as angry as expected. In fact, he was somewhat intrigued.

Despite his earlier misgivings about Dumbledore's decision to take her on as a student, Snape had found himself not entirely disapproving of the Asher girl, Gryffindor or no. Something about her reminded him of….well, himself. While the mere hint of his presence seemed to intimidate others, it seemed to only encourage her to improve. Her expression was that of one who had seen far scarier things than him in her time. 

In addition to this, she was possibly one of the less dunderheaded students he had taught, her sharp mind serving her rather well. 

If only he could do something about her equally sharp tongue. 

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

For once, everyone bar Anya and Xander had gathered in Giles' living room rather than at the Magic Box. While many of the books rescued from the now-charcoal Sunnydale High Library remained at the shop, the more obscure were housed in the Englishman's private collection. 

Plus, Anya had forbidden the use of the Magic Box phone for long distance calls after Spike had attempted to call an old contact in Prague, gotten to talking, and raised the phone bill to astronomical levels. Privately, it was agreed that fitting half a century's worth of news into a two-hour conversation had been quite a feat, but nobody had dared to mention this to the irate ex-vengeance demon.

Supposedly, the Scoobies were researching the origins of the mysterious 'Isthmus' while Giles attempted to contact his estranged colleagues at the Watchers Council. After weeks of research had proved fruitless, they were tapping into every possible source of information that could shed light on the prophecy.

"Hey! Hand here! Get your great ugly undead feet off!"

"Shh…I can't hear…"

"Oh, _*sorry*,_ maybe you could ask Giles to turn up the volume a little?"

If their research included crowding around the door, trying to listen to the heated argument happening within, they were doing a mighty fine job so far.

The heavy front door slammed open as Anya and Xander entered, both slightly flushed. Anya glanced quizzically at Willow, Tara, Dawn and Spike whose ears were pressed firmly to the door.

" You know, if Giles wants to spank his Mini-Watcher, it's _*his*_ business. Dawn, I never figured you as a door listener…..perhaps having you stay at Xander's tonight isn't such a good idea…Once again with the staring!"

"Once again with the mental pictures, Ahn!"

There was a collective groan from everyone but Dawn, who just looked puzzled. 

"Mini-Watcher?"

Anya snorted. " This from a girl who has supposedly hit puberty? Don't they teach you anything in Sex Ed? It's like this….."

Thankfully, Anya's explanation was drowned out by the sound of something loud and heavy hitting a wall. Strings of British cursing were audible as the door was swung open, all the Scoobies scrambling as far from the area as they could.

"The insufferable bas….." Giles looked around the room at the innocent-faced group, reining in his fury. He continued. "The Watchers Council regrets to inform us that they are unable to assist us. Apparently, because I am no longer a Watcher to an active Slayer, we are not worth their concern. They are occupied both with locating Quentin Travers and re-establishing the Slayer line ."

"Ohh-kay. So – the world is about to end, but finding Quentin the Weasel is more important? Priorities, people!" Xander fumed. Willow raised her hand timidly, forgetting that she was no longer in class.

"There's a new Slayer? But I thought… Faith... is still alive, isn't she?"

"Faith, inspirer of the new chapter in the Slayer handbook - 'When Slayers Go Bad'?" 

Giles interrupted, grimacing. "Yes, Anya, that Faith. Unless you know of another. As far as I can tell, Faith is still firmly ensconced in prison, and is most certainly alive. This leaves the Council at a loss, however, as there is no active Slayer at the present, and most likely will not be one until Faith dies. From what my contacts have told me, the Council are sending a team to Los Angeles to remedy the situation."

"And do what exactly? I didn't know the Watchers could give 'get-out-of-jail-free' cards…..'specially not to rogue Slayers they've tried to kill on a number of occasions. Why do I get the feeling that Faith isn't going to pass 'Go', be given $200 and set free into the world? Cos the Council? Big on the tweed, not so great with the forgive and forget….."

As the implications of Xander's rambling and Monopoly references set in, Giles began to polish his squeaky-clean glasses yet again. It seemed there was little possibility that the Council were headed toward LA simply to set Faith free and be willing to make amends, when they had been the first to abandon her, and later attempt to assassinate her. There was precious little they could do from Sunnydale.

"Perhaps a call to Angel Investigations is in order?"

*********************************************************************

_#The City of __Angels__#_

In a dark, steamy room, many figures could be seen carting armfuls of soiled laundry to and from huge rattling machines that lined the windowless walls. The stench of mould and damp hung in the air, cloaking all those who entered in a fine mist that seemed to seep into one's skin. In a corner, an armed guard cast a watchful eye over the proceedings, occasionally barking orders.

"You there! Watson! Pick up your feet or there'll be no meal for every one of you!"

Most of the inmates were beginning to tire, long hours working in the most hated area of all taking their toll. Some were unable to catch the heavy bundles flying at them from large metal chutes, dropping to their knees in exhaustion. Others were moving as though sleepwalking, back and forth in a never-ending rhythm that could make the most hardened of criminals dizzy. 

"Hey you! In the corner! You've just earned yourself a night in solitary! On your feet, prisoner!" 

Above the noise of the machinery the sound of hard batons hitting soft flesh was audible as guards converged upon the figure lying in the corner. Many of the inmates, used to such brutality, did not flinch nor turn, knowing that to do so would only seal their own fate. Those not yet hardened to the harsh realities of prison life would hear the sound echoing in their heads late into the night.

For one, the sound of muffled screams and fists striking flesh was not unusual. What was unusual, however, was not being able to strike back at the attackers in some way. Those who had claimed to 'know' Faith in Sunnydale would not have recognized this new, restrained Faith. 

Wearing the appearance of one fully beaten by the system, Faith kept her head down and her mouth shut – wanting no more than to serve her time and stay out of trouble. She knew she could have easily beaten the guards to a pulp, and the fighter in her wanted nothing more. 

However, deep within her heart was the fear that once she started, she would not be able to stop. Though her time inside had dulled her eyes, it had not crushed the Slayer within her. A Slayer that was merely waiting to be let out. Faith knew she was not yet ready for that to happen, so she gritted her teeth and forced her feet to move one step at a time, trying to block from her mind the memories of another time, another's screams of pain.

" Prisoner 1564! Morgan! You're wanted in the warden's office! Step it up!"

Startled, Faith dropped her smelly bundle of blue uniforms into a nearby cart, heading toward the heavy iron door. A female guard was waiting impatiently at the door, holding a pair of heavy steel handcuffs. Faith allowed the hack to fasten them around her wrists, then followed her down a long grey corridor. 

To her surprise, the guard bypassed the door that led to Warden Cranston's quarters, instead using a large brass key to unlock a metal door painted the same dull color as the walls. Stepping awkwardly inside, Faith felt something uncoil itself from the base of her spine – what Buffy had once called her 'spider senses'. 

Before she had a chance to look closely at the four men within the room, a pinprick in her arm sent waves of agony through her already weakened system. Her limbs convulsed with pain as she strained to hear British accents, then a chillingly familiar name spoken. 

" She should be dead in mere minutes – your problem is solved. We shall see if she can fight her way out of this one, Quentin."

Her blood ran cold even as a savage kick to her head brought merciful darkness.

*********************************************************************

A/N: Before I get roasted for poisoning Faith – I do have a purpose. And who's to say people are truly gone when they're dead?


	8. Vengeance and Shiny Golden Balls

A/N: I've gone slightly AU with both BtVS and AtS after the S5 and S3 finales. So if people are doing different things…..well you've been warned. 

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 8: Vengeance and Shiny Golden Balls**

_#The City of __Angels__#_

The Hyperion Hotel was abuzz with activity. The sun had set moments before, and Angel was studying his weapons cabinet in preparation for a night of 'helping the hopeless'. 

"Hmm…which sword to take, Angelcakes? Extra Shiny number 1, Long and Nasty number 3, or Short and Not-So-Sweet?" Angel whipped around at the voice behind him, a broadsword in his hand. 

"Lorne," he growled, eyes flashing yellow. "What's our first rule around here?"

The green-skinned demon shrugged. " Treat others as you would like to be treated? Avoid using the industrial sized tub of hair gel in bathroom 5 or face death by beheading….again? You break it, you bought it?" He backed away from the sword which was pressed against his neck. "Must have missed the memo."

Angel sighed in exasperation. "*_Never_* sneak up on me." Lorne opened his mouth, no doubt to protest.

Another voice interrupted from the couch. " Boys? If you're done spraying down the decks with…… the demon form of testosterone……places to go, people to save?" Both Angel and Lorne turned to see Cordelia shooting them an exasperated look. Her tone brooked no argument. 

The *_second*_ rule around the office (though not widely announced) was that a post-vision Cordy was not someone to be messed with. For someone her size, she sure could be cranky. Coupled with her developing fighting skills (an idea that Angel was at this moment regretting), and the usual blistering headache….. it was far easier to just smile and nod. Which is what the two non-humans were doing right now.

"Why do you both look like you've got something nasty under your noses?" All three heads turned toward the desk where Wesley was standing, watching the scene with some amusement. Angel took the opportunity to grab some weapons and stealthily creep out the door into the welcome quiet of the night. Cordy watched him leave thoughtfully, pulling herself into a standing position.

" He's getting better. Not so jumpy."

Lorne rubbed his throat, a thin red line visible. "Easy for you to say, darlin'. He didn't try to behead *_you*_. Not that I'm worried - been there, done that. Have to say though, it's a change not having to be the Blood-On-Wheels lady any more. I'll miss the apron though…..What?" 

Cordelia raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. " I'm saying nothing. Not even about your freaky clothing fetish. Scary much?"

Wesley grinned, seizing the opportunity. " Thought you were saying nothing."

To his immense relief, Cordelia ignored him. " He's left his room…. He's patrolling again… He still hasn't changed his clothes, but we can work on that later. When Willow told us….. I thought he'd brood forever. The way he just shut down – it was like he wanted to die….again... to be with Buffy."

The name, unspoken in the hotel for many weeks, echoed through the majestic entrance hall, lingering like a shadow of grief in the air. There was silence for a beat, quickly shattered by the harsh sound of the phone ringing. Wesley blinked, reaching for it. 

"Angel Investigations…we hope the helpless….erm….help the hopeless!" 

Cordelia and Lorne watched as Wes's eyes widened. Carrying the newly installed cordless phone into his office, he closed the door firmly. From their end, they could only hear snippets of conversation, not nearly enough to satisfy their curiosity. After what seemed like an age, they heard the distinct sound of the phone being hung up. Seconds later, Wes's door opened, and he emerged looking flustered. 

"That was Mr. Giles….he believes the Council are going to attempt to take Faith's life to activate the next Slayer….he thought Angel should be aware." 

Cordy opened her mouth, most likely to make a crack about technology-challenged vampires and their inability to use voicemail, but instead her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees buckling. Lorne only just managed to catch her before she hit the ground. 

Between clenched teeth, she managed to choke out. " Lots of trees…really dark and icky feeling..…someone scared…..demons everywhere…." Her voice rose to a wail as she shook helplessly, lost in the vision. Incoherent sounds poured from her mouth.

"Little girl…you think you know…so fragile.…what's to come…..green light… who you are….so much blood….you haven't even….oh god, BUFFY!"

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

The Gryffindor common room was strangely subdued after teatime. Most of the students had heard rumors of the sixth-year Potions lesson, and were waiting rather anxiously for Lily to return from her 'meeting' ("She'll be disemboweled, for sure") with Professor Snape. Half the students were sure she would be expelled, while the other half (mainly the younger students and Neville) were in awe that anyone would dare insult the Professor. 

Nobody was quite sure how Lily would react to whatever punishment Snape had in mind, and considering her disappearance after the Malfoy incident, none of the Gryffindors wanted to take any chances. Colin and Dennis Creevey had been sent on a rather long and involved errand by a well-meaning seventh-year, much to everyone's relief. 

Hermione, Harry and Ron were gathered in a corner, away from their housemates, whispering softly.

"He looked furious…. Suppose they expel her? She'll have nowhere to go!"

" Dumbledore won't let Snape kick her out, surely….Just think of all the rules we've broken, 'Mione. Even more than Fred and George, I'll bet. "

" That reminds me….did they like the toilet seat?"

" Fred's exact words were 'tell Harry this is going on the wall of honor next to the feathers Snape shed after eating one of our Canary Creams.' Wonder if Snape ever found out it was them…"

Ron's musing was interrupted by the sudden hush in the common room as all eyes fixed on the opening portrait door. Lily stepped into the room, grinning furiously. Once the door was firmly closed, the Gryffindors exploded in cheers.

"Brilliant….just brilliant!!"

"I hear his face went a whole new shade of purple!"

"What happened? Did you get expelled?"

Lily grinned even more. "Nope."

" What's he making you do? De-fang vampires? Collect bile? Scrub cauldrons?"

Lily shook her head. " He didn't say. I have to go to the dungeons after dinner for a week. But he didn't say what for."

"Did he take points off?"

Once again, Lily shook her head no. At this, the students fell into a stunned silence. Snape, the nastiest teacher in the school, was well known for his harsh punishments. Including the deduction of numerous points from Gryffindor House. To escape his fury with House points still intact was nothing short of a miracle. Neville gave a hearty sigh, falling off his chair in the process. From the floor, he gazed at Lily with admiration.

"Wow…."

*********************************************************************

In the silence of his chambers, Severus Snape stared into the fire as he mulled over his surprising leniency. No doubt Gryffindor house would be in an uproar by now over his unheard-of 'niceness'. He would have to work extra hard to ensure the Gryffindors (as well as the other Houses) did not take it to mean he was going 'soft'. 

In fact, he was not showing leniency at all. He had plans for the Summers girl. The least of which was finding out who – or what – she really was. The power he could sense within her was incredible – he doubted even *she* was aware of it. Of what she could do…….what she could become.

He knew of forces who would be more than happy to make use of this information.

*********************************************************************

"The Slayer has been secured, sir, as you requested." 

"And her condition, Whitbey?" 

" Her hearts still beats, sir, though erratically. It is a miracle – surely the potion was enough to kill? The dose was twice the amount we normally give."

" We are not dealing with normal circumstances here, Whitbey. The girl is a Slayer, after all. Had it been the usual concoction, her system would have destroyed the drug by now. However, I anticipated this. Amongst the mixture of toxins, we integrated a strain of the very drug used to disable Slayers for the Cruciamentum. I have every confidence that she will be unable to even speak, let alone escape."

"How long is she to be kept here, sir? Surely the drug will wear off with time? What are we to do then?"

" The Slayer is to be transported this very afternoon. My superiors have taken a particular interest in this situation. Her conditioning is scheduled to begin at midnight. Then we shall see just how useful this little, little Slayer can be."

At this, the older of the two men settled into his chair, a cruel grin twisting his otherwise distinguished face. There was nothing more satisfying that exacting his revenge on the troublesome Slayer who had very nearly cost him his job. And what a triumph it would be – not only would the Slayer line be indefinitely stalled, but his superiors would have one of the most powerful weapons in the Muggle world to use as they so desired.  

Lifting the sleeves of his suit jacket, Quentin Travers examined his Lord's mark, tracing its ever-darkening outline with a single finger. He could practically taste the power that would be his. 

It was almost time.

*********************************************************************

In a darkened cavern far underneath the luxurious room where Travers was basking in his imagined glory, a deathly still figure lay chained to a heavy stone bench. Clothed in the same blue prison uniform she had been transported in, Faith's weakened body was desperately trying to fight against the dark fire rapidly spreading through her system. 

The only movement in the small room was an occasional fluttering of the Slayer's eyelids. Lost in a hazy fog of agony, Faith was unable to draw the strength even to open her eyes, let alone to pull her mind from the dark abyss it had retreated to.

She could not force the images from her mind, nor could she stop the screams from echoing inside her head. 

_*The sickening sound of a stake sliding into living human flesh. Of seeing the surprise and horror in eyes that slowly dimmed, leaving him staring sightlessly into the distance.*_

_* The heavy, copper smell of human blood filling the air, staining her palms.*_

_* Spending hours in her filthy hotel room, staring at her shaking hands. Hands that were raw from the endless scrubbing she had inflicted upon herself, as though cleaning her hands could remove the stain that was slowly spreading within her very soul. Knowing that her hands had helped to save many innocent people did not cancel out the fact that she had used them tonight to end a life.* _

_* Pacing the room, utterly alone as she always had been, as she began to understand why __Angel__ could not rid himself of his demons, no matter how hard he tried to atone. The difference was, __Angel__ had not been in full control of his actions – he was simply forced to relive the murders committed by a demon.*_

_* Faith had been Faith before, during, and after she drove the stake home.*_

The near-dead Slayer did not hear the heavy door open. She did not stir as three figures entered the room silently, cloaked in heavy black traveling capes. 

As the taller of the two men withdrew a wand from his robe, conjuring heavy chains which wrapped themselves around her body, her eyelids continued to flutter. 

Her body rose in the manner of a grotesquely twisted marionette, head lolling, and as if attached to an invisible rope, she followed the figures as they strolled lazily down the corridor, confident in the knowledge that their captive could not escape. 

Had Faith been conscious, she would have heard the tallest figure speak in smooth and arrogant tones, and the smaller, yet considerably wider shapes beside him grunt their agreement.

" The Dark Lord will be most pleased with our gift. My home is being prepared as we speak, awaiting the Slayer's arrival. Narcissa and myself will ensure the first stages of her re-education begin at once – there is little time to waste, don't you agree?"

Crabbe and Goyle Senior bobbed their heads obediently, as the strange party apparated, disappearing from sight. 

The cruel laughter of Lucius Malfoy was all that remained to suggest they had been there, echoing in the empty space.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

"What *is* this 'Puzzle of Dark'?" Willow asked in frustration. " There's nothing in any of these books! Nothing in Daemons Mystica, nothing in the Chronicles…." She waved her hand, indicating the entirety of Giles' collection. Tara patted her arm reassuringly.

From his position on the couch, where he was recuperating after being almost gored by a rather strong demon with 'big, freaky-lookin horns', Xander shrugged. 

"So…. Research not helping any?"

He was rewarded with a decidedly un-Willow-like glare. Shifting his gaze, he looked at Giles.

"Any luck with the Christmas thing?" 

Giles blinked. " Christmas? I hardly think it is the time to be erecting a tree and covering it with yards of infernal tinsel." All eyes focused on him disbelievingly.

"Y'know, G-Man, for someone who's spent so many years here in good old US of A, you're still so overly….British. You haven't learnt zilch, have you?"

"Quite the opposite, Xander. I never dreamed there could be so many ways to slaughter the English language. However, you continue to surprise me."

Xander grinned. "Well at least we taught you something," His smile faded, leaving behind a look of suspicion. "Hey! Enough with the insults, King of Tweed."

Giles was cut off by Anya, who looked faintly excited by something.

"Will there be erecting? And tinsel? And the wrapping of packages? I like it when Xander - "

Hastily, Willow cut in. " I think Xander meant to ask about 'Isthmus'…..didn't you Xand? No wrapping of *anything* there. At least, I don't think so…."

Anya pouted, hands on hips. " But I like it when Xander winds the tinsel around….."

This time it was Giles who cut her off, slightly fearful of her next words. " I believe Isthmus refers to a constellation – it would certainly make sense, that when it is visible in the sky, this battle will take place. There are many constellations, or even star configurations, that appear and disappear at specific times. It is quite fascinating actually, to think that….Oh. Nobody cares."

"Welcome back from Planet Pocket Protector, G-Man."

"WHY won't you let me talk?? Every time I start to speak, somebody interrupts me! Xander says that interrupting is RUDE! And it makes me cranky!"

The group looked at each other uncertainly, nobody wanting to tell Anya the truth. Spike, who had been sitting outside the front door having a quiet smoke, snorted suddenly.

"Oh sod it. Demon-girl, nobody wants you to talk because they're afraid their G-rated little minds can't cope with the sexual innuendos. Being reminded of the right sorry state of their love lives makes 'em squirm. Myself, I'm all for some ill-timed toilet humour. Go for it." 

Spike glared at the assembled Scoobies, daring them to interrupt.

Anya frowned, clearly puzzled. " I was only going to say that I like Christmas. And presents – especially if they cost a lot of money. The custom of buying a tree and covering it in brightly colored and sometimes flashing ornaments is strange, but nice. Xander does this thing with the tinsel where he winds it around the curtain rails. It makes me feel all warm and festive."

There was a stunned silence in the room. Anya grinned suddenly. 

"Plus, on Christmas Eve, Xander lets me dribble the leftover egg nog on his penis. It can get quite sticky, but he seems to like it."

Xander turned a shade of red which made his face look like a puffy, slightly bruised tomato. He feared he would never again be able to face the others for Christmas dinner.

From the doorway, there was a loud thud and some assorted cursing as Spike fell over in absolute glee.

*********************************************************************

_#City of __Angels__#_

Exhausted from the aftermath of her vision, Cordelia had retreated up to one of the many rooms in the hotel, armed with a handful of painkillers and a bottle of water. She had been unusually quiet – it was not often, perhaps never, that she received a 'cry for help' from people who were already dead. 

Downstairs, Wesley had shut himself in his office, clutching a piece of paper which held Cordelia's description of her vision. Had anyone dared to enter, they would have found him not consulting his books, but simply staring at the words scrawled on the page. 

Despite all his learning, he could not begin to figure out why the Powers That Be had sent them – Angel especially – yet another reminder of one they had lost in their continued battle. A cruel joke? Or was there a reason?

Cordelia had been quick to mention that the Buffy she had seen fighting a yet-to-be-identified assortment of demons, was not the Buffy they had seen lying in a casket, white and still and lacking the sunshine that had always seemed to hover about her. In fact, the girl from the vision was almost identical to the Buffy that the Seer remembered from her Sunnydale High days. 

Had they been sent a vision of the past? And if it was indeed the past, was there any need to warn Angel at all? With no apparent danger to fight, it would most likely send the grieving vampire on a further downward spiral. Wesley was reminded of the dark days when Angel had fired them – the Angel he saw now was not that much different. 

Perhaps he should further research this new development, then inform Angel if there was any cause for alarm. Yes. Once he had a clearer idea of the reason behind the vision, Angel could be told. 

Wes sighed, hoping he was making the right decision.

****

In the foyer, Lorne and Gunn were taking advantage of Angel's absence, examining the assortment of weapons strewn around the hotel. Occasionally, the clanging of swords could be heard as they 'road tested' the intimidating and sometimes unusual weapons. 

" Did you see this baby? Somalis Dagger – looks wicked small, but sharp enough to sever your sorry green neck." Gunn waved the delicate looking dagger around haphazardly. His eyes lit up as he spotted yet another strange object, hidden in the very back of the weapons cabinet. "Check this one out!"

Lorne, who was brandishing a self-loading crossbow ( "The latest technology, can hold up to twelve arrows" they had been told by their regular arms dealer, a scaly looking demon with a passion for Mozart), turned toward Gunn, his finger squeezing the trigger accidentally. 

Gunn ducked as three arrows brushed the top of his shaved head, burying themselves in one of Angel's valuable paintings. Both men stared at the painting, which was now ripped to shreds.

"Lucky you're such a lousy aim."

The Host stared at him in disbelief. " Remind me how destroying one of Angelcakes' ancient artworks is lucky? I quite like having my head attached, thank you."

Gunn simply shrugged. "Could've hit me instead….."

Lorne simply raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Look at it this way – which would you rather have lusting for your blood; Angel, or Fred?"

"I'll take a severed head over Fred's wrath any day."

In the confusion, both of them had forgotten about the strange object sitting on a shelf at the back of the weapons cabinet. Encrusted with jewels, it was small and circular, closely resembling a rubber ball. 

Had they picked it up, and turned it over, they would have marveled at the strange crest carved into its surface – a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake. Gunn, having cleaned out the cabinet many times before, would have sworn he had never seen it before.

In truth, it had always been there – concealed with a powerful spell, biding its time until certain secrets were ready to be revealed. 

The spell had been broken when a deceptively powerful girl had leapt from a rickety tower into a portal. All they needed was right in front of them – if they would only open their eyes.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale, a few hours later #_

A key turned slowly in a lock, and the heavy wooden door swung open. An aging hand reached for the light switch, illuminating the small apartment. 

Setting the leather satchel he was carrying onto the table, Rupert Giles gazed around his disheveled home. Books lay everywhere, there were mugs and plates with food scraps scattered around the room – and was that a half-empty blood container on his sofa? He supposed it had been abandoned when Dawn had called, panicked – supposedly a demon was trying to enter the Summers house. Spike, in a show of protectiveness, had been first out the door.

It had been rather amusing to see the once vicious vampire wrestle with the 'demon' – an enormous black dog that had been chasing night-creatures in the backyard. He couldn't say who had been more embarrassed – Dawn; having 'freaked' at the sight of a canine, or Spike; amber eyes flashing as he wiped copious amounts of dog hair and saliva from his face.

After the laughter (and growling from both Spike and the dog) had died down, the Scoobies had decided to call it a night. Tara, Willow, Dawn and the dog, who had taken a definite liking to the younger girl ('Can we keep him? Can we? Pleeease?'), had stayed at the Summers house. The others had headed to their respective homes, after arranging to continue their research tomorrow. 

As far as Giles knew, Spike was patrolling. Any demon who happened to get in his way would be as good as dead – the vampire had left in a foul mood. Xander's ill-timed comments about Spike now also *_smelling*_ like a lap-dog had not been well received.

Heading toward his kitchen, Giles began to make tea almost as a reflex. Pouring a generous slug of whisky into a mug, he left the kettle boiling and settled himself onto his couch. 

Alone at last, the Watcher allowed himself to relax slightly. Perhaps it was the effects of the whisky burning through his veins, but the looming crisis seemed less important. Tonight was not a night for business – it was a night for relaxation. For emptying his mind of all the world's troubles and just….sitting. And nothing was going to disturb Giles' plans to finish the bottle of rather fine whisky.

Of course, things never seemed to go to plan when one lived on a Hellmouth. 

All was quiet for awhile. Then…..three things happened at once. 

A strange glow appeared from inside his weapons cabinet, the kettle ( forgotten on the stovetop) suddenly emitted a piercing whistle and a cloud of steam; and every single window in Giles's house exploded inward, spraying the room with shards of broken glass. 

Giles, shocked from his half-drunken state, took shelter behind an armchair as the last remaining pieces fell to the floor. Dazed and bleeding, he only dimly registered the lights going out as a shadowed figure moving into the room. The figure seemed drawn toward the golden glow, reaching into the cabinet cautiously.

Giles fought back a gasp as it drew its hand back, clutching a small, bright golden ball that shimmered with multicolored gemstones. He had never seen the object before, he was positive of that. Besides, he had done a weapons inventory just - 

It had been months. In fact, he suddenly realized the last time he had opened it had been….. just after Quentin and his Council lackeys had left. He remembered that day – Willow, Xander and Buffy had gathered at his 'bachelor pad' for a celebratory dinner…

_"Giles!__ Hey Watcher-mine! What should I do with these potatoes? They're gettin' extra crispy in there." Buffy, who had volunteered to be in charge of the vegetables, stuck her head into the living room area for the tenth time in five minutes. _

_"Erm… might I suggest taking them out?"_

_"Oh…right." It was really quite amazing how, well, *blonde* his Slayer could be at times. And he could once again call her his – hence the celebration.._

Still watching silently from his hiding spot, Giles was lost for a moment in the memory of laughter, good food ( though they had agreed they liked their potatoes with less charcoal), and the company of three young adults he had grown to consider his surrogate children. For that one night, he had seen in each of them the innocent teenagers they had once been, and it had comforted him somewhat to know that the darkness they faced could do little to dampen their spirits.

_Their appetites sated, the table cleared, the evening had turned to reminiscence of their high school days. He noticed that all three were carefully avoiding the darker memories – __Jesse__'s death, the appearance of Angelus, Faith's betrayal – choosing to remember the funny times instead._

_Willow__ was protesting feebly as Xander spoke. "Now that Skanky Vamp __Willow__'s gayness has come to the front, does this mean you're changing your look?"_

_Buffy laughed in the background, her head buried in Giles's weapons stockpile. " I've got enough leather to share, __Will__. If Xander could just provide us with a bondage-style corset….."_

_The boy tried to look offended, failing miserably. " No such item in my wardrobe. Plenty of wacky shirts though…."_

_"Oh puh-lease, Xand, with your love for evil honeys…didn't you snag a souvenir?"_

_" Well__, Bug-Lady had a fine selection…. But I got too wigged watching her head go round."_

_"That could have it's uses, y'know, for when she…." At the other's looks, __Willow__ blushed. "Oh! Not so innocent anymore!"_

_"And here we thought __Anya__ was the sex bible."_

At the time, he had thought that the world would surely be safe as long as the three friends drew strength from each other – as long as they did not give up. He had been sure that none of them would.

In the end, faced with the choice between her life and her sister's, Buffy had given up, in a sense. Looking back, he could recognize the signs, and still blamed himself for not paying more attention. The growing weariness that at times had surrounded his Slayer. Returning from a routine patrol increasingly more bruised and beaten. Her retreat into a trance in the final days. 

His musing was broken by a sudden scream of pain. Blinking, he focused on the scene at hand, eyes widening as the ball emitted a white light. The hand holding it had begun to smoke. Dropping it on the ground, where it smashed, the moaning figure pulled out a piece of wood with an oddly familiar shape….muttered a few words, then disappeared. 

Light returned to the apartment. As Giles rose painfully from his crouching position, all thoughts of cleaning his wounds and then his apartment vanished from his mind.

Clear as day, in the centre of the room, there hung a ghostly symbol – one the Watcher had not seen for countless years. Even after all this time, it still turned his heart to ice.

The Dark Mark.

*********************************************************************

A/N: Seems like the last couple of chapters have been all about casting lots of loose plot threads around – keep reading and I promise that soon most of them will be tied together – or at least make more sense. I do have my evil plan, remember.

In the next chapter: The worlds of Sunnydale and LA collide, Giles writes a letter to an old mentor, someone at Hogwarts learns something about our amnesiac Slayer….. and Faith as we know her will be changed forever.  


	9. Windows to the Soul

A/N: Just a heads up to all my brilliant readers – this could be the last chapter for a couple weeks or so – I have a sudden desire to PASS my university exams. Unfortunately, with all the other things I have to do, it doesn't leave much time for writing, something I'm not all that happy about. 

Right now, there are plot threads going all over the place, but they *will* make sense in coming chapters. Stay on the ride, there's lots more to come.

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 9: Windows to the Soul**

_#Hogwarts#_

Lily hurried along the dark corridors of the dungeons toward the Potions classroom. The weekend had flown by and the arrival of Monday had meant another week of classes and the beginning of her detention with Professor Snape. 

A knot of nerves had twisted her stomach all day, making it almost impossible for the sixth year student to enjoy her classes as she normally did. Listening to Colin Creevey's tales of other punishments the Professor had metered out had done nothing to appease her fears.

 She wondered idly what she would be enduring for the next two hours, but before she could allow her imagination to run wild, she was standing in the door of the Potions classroom, facing the King of Cranky himself.

Snape looked up from his work. "Miss Asher – do come in."

His tone wasn't friendly by any means, but the hostility Lily had noticed when he usually addressed the Gryffindors had lessened somewhat.

"Madame Pomphrey has asked me to brew a variety of potions for the hospital wing's stores cupboard. You have proven that you are capable of brewing simple potions. Therefore, you will be assisting me tonight."

Lily was unable to make more than a few meaningless squeaks. A voice suddenly echoed in her head.

*_I can make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away.*_

Startled, she shook her head, as if she could make the voice go away. Moving toward Snape's desk, she stared down at the viscous orange liquid bubbling away.

"Is there a problem, Miss Asher?"

The Professor's voice intruded on her thoughts. She stared at him.

"Huh? Oh – no, I didn't mean…uh…. this is fine. I mean, great. Uh…"

Noting her confused expression, he interrupted. "Shall we get started then? You should find all you need for a basic Pepper-Up potion in the wooden cabinet in the corner. The list is on the piece of parchment in front of you."

Had the girl just smiled gratefully at him? No student had ever *smiled* at him. Severus blinked, deciding he must have imagined it as she turned, parchment in hand, heading toward the mentioned cabinet. She pulled on the heavy doors as Snape paused, expecting her to ask for assistance in opening the cabinet. 

To his great surprise, it took only one hard tug from her small hand and the door groaned, then swung open. Having heard rumors from the Slytherins of her strength, he had earlier charmed the doors to weigh more than a grown man. Yet she had pulled them open as if they weighed no more than a small pewter cauldron. 

This was most interesting. 

Before Snape had a chance to fully absorb this knowledge, Lily gave a surprised gasp as a shape emerged from the cabinet. Recognizing the creature as a Boggart, Snape had barely drawn his wand and started forward to dispose of the annoying shape-shifter when it assumed the form of the thing the young girl in front of him most feared.

Herself.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

The pieces of the golden object lay on the table at Casa de Summers, Giles's temporary home while his windows were being replaced. For the past week, they had been trying to learn the origins of what they believed was a summoning talisman. So far, their research had yielded nothing.

The house was practically empty– Dawn, Willow and Tara had left for a day of classes. Giles was alone in the house with only his demons and Dawn's dog, who was sitting on the floor near his feet, staring at him intently.

Giles, bent over a piece of parchment, was scribbling a letter to an old mentor. From time to time, he wiped a quill on a piece of rag and paused to stare at a long, thin box he had unearthed from the bottom of his closet. Frowning, he continued, uncomfortably aware of the dog following his every movement. 

Especially the way the animal's eyes seemed to shift occasionally to the framed photo of Buffy that stood on the mantelpiece.

Giles sighed wearily. It was obviously absurd to think that the dog was actually *looking* at the picture…..yet there was something in the mutt's steady gaze that made him uneasy. Dismissing it, the ex-Watcher turned back to his letter.

_Professor__Dumbledore__,_

_                                     I write to you after all these years seeking information. I beg you will look past my previous mistakes and assist me in saving the lives of many innocent people. Recent events have spurred me to seek your advice and wisdom. My assistants and I have unearthed a prophecy that I believe speaks of the restoration of Voldemort. Less than a week ago, a Death Eater entered my home, and cast His __Mark__ into the room. I feel it necessary to warn you of the prophecy in hope of preventing an evil so terrible from regaining power----------_

Crumpling the paper between his hands in frustration, Giles tossed it to the floor among the many other attempts. How could he expect the Professor to help him after his disgraced exit from the wizarding world? A rustling made him look up.

The great dog, aptly named Shaggy by Dawn, had seized the discarded letter in his mouth and trotted out of the room.

"Shaggy! Bring it back! BAD DOG!"

It was too late – the dog had disappeared out the front door. Peering out the window, Giles could not see the mongrel anywhere. He supposed the dog had gone to bury the paper in a far-off place where it had been disappearing to of late. Not that it mattered – that letter, like the others, was useless.

The front door slammed shut suddenly, and Xander rushed into the room, holding a glittering fragment.

"G-Man? The guys found this while they were moving the furniture. They were about to toss it – but I thought it could be a part of the shiny thing we've been trying to name. So I brought it over. There's little cartoon animals on it – see?"

Accepting the proffered piece, Giles pushed his glasses up, examining it. His eyes widened as he recognized the Hogwarts crest. Xander looked at him expectantly.

"It looked like an emblem for something – kinda like what our school emblem would have been if we'd had one. Except ours would've had a big demon snake, a portal to Hell, and some other nasties on it…..not great for the ol' school spirit. So? What is it?"

Finding his voice, Giles looked at the young man. " Meet me here when you've finished work – I'll let the others know. I'll explain everything then." With that, he turned and hurried up the stairs. 

Xander quirked an eyebrow. "Geez, thanks for vaguing that up for me. And you're welcome." Shrugging, he disappeared out the door.

*********************************************************************

The first thing Faith was aware of as she fought for consciousness was the smell of blood. The second was a cold, cruel voice whispering to her. Taunting her.

"Slaaayer…."

The simple act of raising her head sent waves of exhaustion through her system. For a moment, she thought she was still in prison and had simply been thrown into 'the hole'. The guards would come, and they would let her out – she hadn't started the fight. Judging from the aching in her body, and her rapidly swelling eye, the other girl must have gotten a few decent swings in before the hacks arrived.

_^ Wonder what *she* looks like.^_

That voice again. "Slaaayer….." Wait. Nobody in prison knew she was a –

With her one good eye, Faith searched the room for the owner of the voice. As if he could read her mind, the shadows parted to reveal a man dressed entirely in black, white-blonde hair cascading down over his shoulders. In one hand, he clutched a cane with a snake's head for a handle. In the other….. a familiar knife.

Faith wondered if it was still crusted with her dried blood from the rooftop fight so long ago. He started toward her, face twisted in a cruel smile.

" Do you know why you are here, Slayer?"

Faith thought about this for a moment, then lunged toward the man. He did not even blink as the heavy chains around her wrists sent her flying back into the wall, gasping for breath. The pain was fierce, but she stubbornly bit down on her lip, refusing to let him hear her scream.

Blood trickled from her torn flesh even as her eyes stared back at him, wild with fury. 

" Is that an acceptable way for a servant to behave? I think not. Servants simply obey. Nothing else."

Tasting blood, Faith ground out. "I'm _*nobody's*_ slave." Why wouldn't her body obey? She remembered a needle, and…. Travers. He had done this. Hot anger flooded her body.

"What did you DO to me, you sick son of a bitch!!"

The stranger chuckled, though his eyes stayed cold. " I do not remember granting you permission to speak, Slayer. Naughty girls must be taught to obey."

Before Faith could reply, he muttered to himself, pointing a……really thin stake?..... at her. Instantly, agony exploded in her limbs. Clawing at the ground, she barely felt her teeth tear into her lip as her body shook. Above the ringing in her ears, she heard his voice.

" You see, there are two types in this world. There are those with power – and those without it. A Slayer without her magic is no more than an ordinary Muggle. And yet, I hold the power. Who is the slave now, little girl? Do you want me to take the pain away? I can do so…. But only if you beg for it."

Something stubborn in Faith's brain refused to allow him the pleasure. The agony continued until Faith was sobbing. Still she refused to beg. Quite suddenly, the pain disappeared, leaving her curled on the floor.

His eyes gleamed with something close to satisfaction. " They warned me you were a stubborn one. No matter – the stubborn horses are the most fun to break."

Another burst of pain, and still she refused to make a sound. Nails broken and bloody from clawing at the ground forced themselves into fists. A little voice appeared inside her head.

^_Just give him what he wants, and it will stop. Beg.^_

Another, louder voice. _^ Don't do it. Never give in.^_

_^ Beg for him to take it away. It would be so easy^_

_^ No!!!^_

_^Do it… NOW! Beg!!!^_

"I WON'T!!" Faith screamed. 

"Very well then…. We shall see if you feel differently in a few hours."

With that, there was the clang of a door, and the stranger swept from the tiny cell. Only when she was sure he had gone did Faith allow her screams to fill the air.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

The living room of the Summers house was warm, and filled with bodies eagerly awaiting Giles's 'explanation'. Not wasting any time, Giles began, eyes straying occasionally to the thin piece of wood lying on the coffee table.

" When I was merely a boy, living in England with my father and mother, I was somehow aware of other worlds existing within ours. My father, a senior member of the Watchers Council, had raised me with discipline, hoping one day I would join him. Denied the opportunity of having an active Slayer, his greatest desire was that I would live out his legacy – hence I was schooled in the ways of the demon world, taught many obscure languages and forced to memorize endless lists of demons and their traits."

Giles appeared to drift into a reverie of memory as he continued talking.

***

_// He had been locked in his room, denied freedom until he could recite from the heavy text his father had thrust into his arms. Young Rupert shivered in the bitter English winter, dressed only in thin pajamas, desperately trying to win his fathers approval by memorizing the endless pages of facts. _

_He knew deep inside that no matter how hard he tried, his father would never be satisfied, but with the innocence of a child, he imagined that if he only could read another hundred pages, his pleas for food might be answered.\\_

***

" By the time I was eleven, I had realized that my father would never be appeased. I longed to be allowed to go to school like the children I saw outside, to have friends. My father believed that knowing others would be nothing but a distraction to my inevitable future. I dreamt of escaping his iron fist one day, making my own way in the world. Then, what I had always longed for, was made possible with the arrival of a letter."

***

// _He could still remember the joy that had flooded his body when his father had shown him the letter, written on heavy paper in green ink. He had kept his features neutral, while inside pleading with a higher power that he would be permitted to go. _

_His mother, ever the obedient wife, had shocked both father and son by tentatively saying that it would be an added advantage for Rupert to be schooled in the ways of magic – could possibly improve his chances of becoming a Watcher._

_ His father had agreed reluctantly, and days later, Giles had entered __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time.\\_

***

" My first years at the school were the happiest of my life to that date. Within a week, I had established a firm friendship with Ethan Rayne, as well as many others – Deidre, Randall, others in my house. The Transfigurations Professor, Albus Dumbledore, had taken a particular interest in my schooling, always willing to give me guidance. Ethan and I were notorious among the staff for causing mischief – Ethan in particular was always thinking of new ways to cause chaos."

***

_// The two fourth years were crouched behind a statue of some goblin, watching as the caretaker, a cantankerous man named Filch, spied a small object lying on the floor. Seizing it, Filch cried out as it emitted a cloud of smoke, which cleared away slowly, revealing the caretaker – now electric purple. _

_Unaware, the man had stalked away, meeting several students in his travels, who burst into laughter. Ethan and Giles, undiscovered, had laughed until their stomachs hurt.\\_

***

Even now, the memory made Giles smile. Forcing himself to focus, he continued, noting with amusement the spellbound faces of the young adults around him.

" My father had always been disapproving of the school, believing that he could teach me much more at home. He would lock away my schoolbooks and my wand during the summer holidays. My time away from Hogwarts consisted of even more exhausting study, but I no longer minded, as I knew I could escape come September. The summer before my seventh year, my father became oddly quiet, supervising my studies with an air of detachment. He was frequently absent from home."

Pausing, he reached for his old wand, fingering it longingly. For once, nobody interrupted him.

"At the time, I thought he had finally begun to come around to the fact that I no longer wanted to become a Watcher – I had dreams of joining the Ministry of Magic, perhaps becoming an Auror. They do much the same job as Watchers, you know – protect the wizarding world from dark forces and such. How little I knew."

***

// _It was only two weeks before the N.E.W.T.s began, and the seventh years had been studying continuously. The common room was full of exhausted students, poring over books and muttering to themselves in hope that the knowledge would be absorbed. _

_Even __Ethan__ had refrained from his usual mischief, for which the staff were most grateful. Giles, trained from an early age to memorize things quickly, had been skimming through his Potions notes, when a house-elf had entered the room._

_"Master Giles, sir, Saffy is bringing a message from the Headmaster. He is wanting __Master__Giles__ to come to his office right away. Saffy will take __Master__Giles__ to the place."_

_Puzzled, __Rupert__ had risen, trailing behind the house-elf. In no time he was facing the entrance to the Headmaster's rooms, waiting for the enchanted werewolf statue to grant him entrance.\\_

***

" I received news that my mother was dying, and that very night I was sent home by Floo – a method of wizarding travel – only to find my mother in perfect health. My father had orchestrated my removal from Hogwarts once and for all. The next day, I was placed under the supervision of Quentin Travers, at the time a junior Watcher. I never saw Hogwarts again."

"But – what about Ethan? And Eyghon?" Willow's voice cut in, sounding foreign in the silent room. Giles sighed – he had expected this.

" The wizarding world is a well-kept secret from the general population. The Ministry controls any interference in the Muggle – non wizarding – world. Therefore, the actual events leading up to our raising Eyghon were a little different from what I told you at the time."

"While I was training with the Council, Ethan and the others went on to graduate from Hogwarts. Years later, I had grown tired of the Council and rebelled, leaving to study ancient mythology at an English university. It was there that Ethan found me once again."

***

_// Giles was walking toward the History Department when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Turning, he looked into the unmistakable face of __Ethan__Rayne__. __Ethan__ was grinning furiously. _

_"Ripper!__ Fancy meeting you here!"_

_"__Ethan__? Bloody hell….never thought I'd see your ugly mug again. Still causing chaos?"_

_" Too__ bloody right. Makes the world interesting. Ol' Dumbledore sent me here – he's been keeping tabs on you, y'know. He's Headmaster now. Finally those Ministry gits have made a brainy decision. Remember Fudge? The incompetent fool with his nose up the Minister's ass? The brown-nosing paid off, and he's the Assistant Minister of Magic….God bloody forbid. But who cares? What've you been doing all these years?"_

_From then on, it was like it had been at Hogwarts. Giles had learnt that many of his old school-friends were in the area, still dabbling in magic and occasionally helping the Ministry of Magic. Slowly, they had become more adventurous, at times delving into the Dark Arts. Then __Ethan__ had found out about Eyghon through his 'sources'. _

_Things had gone downhill from there_.\\

***

" The Ministry of Magic were alerted to our activities. Ethan and I were permanently expelled from the wizarding world, never allowed to return, nor contact any of our old friends. From then on, I swore never to use magic again. I returned to the Council – and the rest, you are aware of."

Dawn looked at the Watcher, eyes shining. " They have *schools* for magic? Can you still do magic? The real kind – like from Hogwarts. Can you show us?"

Giles gripped his wand. Even after all these years, it felt *right* in his hand. The temptation was great….. he was a simple swish and flick away from the world he missed so dearly….but he restrained himself, much to the disappointment of the Scoobies. He knew that using magic would alert the Ministry – and the last thing he wanted was their interference.

" Perhaps another time, Dawn."

Something in his very soul told him that maybe the occasion was coming sooner, rather than later.

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

Lily could only stare at the figure standing before her. It was her – and yet it was not. The eyes alone told her that – they practically glittered with sheer power and something close to rage. No – not rage, but deadly determination. 

Devoid of any _*human*_ emotion, these were the eyes of a warrior.

A split second later, and the tensed figure uncoiled rapidly, launching itself at her. Lily barely had time to dodge before a deadly accurate kick parted the air, aimed where her head had been. Without allowing her time to think, her attacker sent a furious set of blows her way. 

Instinctively blocking the attack, Lily felt something stir to life inside her. As her body moved, she felt complete for the first time since she had awoken at Hogwarts.

***

As the two identical figures moved in a hypnotic dance, Severus Snape could only watch. It was almost impossible to tell the two blonde blurs apart – both were dressed in a standard Hogwarts robe, which occasionally shifted to reveal black pants and tight white shirts. They moved almost in unison, each blocking their opponents attacks, and occasionally the sound of fists striking unprotected flesh could be heard. 

A savage kick connected with the midsection of one of the blurs, sending her flying through the air, landing on Snape's sturdy desk with a sickening crunch. The force behind the move must have been extraordinary, as the desk splintered, showering pieces of wood around the room.

It was suddenly obvious to Snape that one of the figures was steadily gaining the upper hand – yet he could not tell whether it was the Boggart or the real Lily. He watched, frozen, as one of them snatched a sword from a nearby cabinet and advanced on the other, who was lying helplessly among the shattered ruins of his desk. The sword glittered as it was raised, and an exhausted sob came from the Lily on the ground. 

In a flash of understanding, Snape realized that the Boggart Lily was about to drive the sword through his student's heart. His heart sank as he sprung toward the two, knowing inside that he would not be able to stop the inevitable. 

As if in slow motion, he watched in horror as the sword swung in a wide arc downwards. Lily's eyes closed in defeat, a tear escaping her eye to mix with the blood on her face. Boggart Lily's face was set in an eerie look of concentration that never wavered.

 Snape knew in a blinding realization that the Boggart was the very embodiment of the occasional determination he had seen in the *real* Lily's eyes. The girl's fear was of becoming – or finding out she *had* once been – this emotionless shell, the pure warrior that Snape already could sense inside her. 

No sooner had he allowed this thought to cross his mind, then time started to speed up again. Boggart Lily's sword glinted in the flickering torchlight, deadly accurate as its tip penetrated the tender flesh of his student on the floor…..

Whatever had been holding him frozen suddenly disappeared, and he whipped out his wand. His voice was an echo of desperation as he shouted "Riddikulus!", something clutching at his heart as he realized he had most probably been too late….again. 

Wisps of grey smoke dispersed into the room, the Boggart defeated.

Never a coward, Snape now found himself *forcing* his gaze to the girl on the floor. Her eyes were still squeezed shut. Her face was a sickly white, and for a moment Severus truly thought she was dead. Her hands were clutching the silver sword, which appeared to be buried deep in her chest. Blood had begun to spread on her white shirt, red blossoming in the grey shadows of the room.

Hurrying over, he knelt before the still figure. To his surprise, there was no fatal wound on her chest, merely a deep gash. It was only then that he began to realize what had happened.

 Somehow, even with her eyes closed, Lily had stopped the sword before it had had a chance to pierce her heart. The blood was steadily dripping from wide gashes on her hands, torn apart by the weapon's sharp edges. Her palms were still locked around the blade. 

In a sudden panic, Snape lifted her small form into his arms, careful not to aggravate her existing wounds. The movement caused the sword to slip from Lily's hands, a harsh sound echoing through the room as it hit the stone. Her body was limp in his grasp as he hurried toward the hospital wing, cape sweeping behind him like an overgrown vampire bat on a quest for blood.

*********************************************************************

_#Elsewhere at Hogwarts#_

" Someone really needs to teach Hagrid that rock cakes aren't made with actual rocks." Ron panted, fingering a chipped tooth woefully as the Trio made their way back toward Hogwarts. 

Despite Hermione's protests about their upcoming exams _("We've only got a few months left to prepare!")_, they had taken advantage of a rare homework-free night to visit Hagrid. As usual, time had passed rather quickly, and they were now hurrying toward their common room in hope of escaping Filch's wrath. Nobody had thought to take the Invisibility Cloak.

Opening the heavy wooden doors at the entrance to the school, Harry peered through the small gap, eyes searching for any movement that might lead them into trouble yet again. Seeing no sign of Filch or Mrs Norris, he motioned for Ron and Hermione to follow him through, shutting the doors quietly behind them.

The three friends headed up one of the staircases toward the Gryffindor common room, talking in whispers. 

"Wonder how Lily got on with Snape?" Ron murmured as they had to duck behind a trophy cabinet to hide from Peeves, who was roaming the halls, looking for mischief . " Who knows what he made her do – probably something nasty, as always……"

Harry made a face, remembering various punishments Snape had dealt out. " Wish she could've come to Hagrid's with us – he wanted to see her before he left."

Ron frowned, confused. " Hagrid's leaving? When? Where? Why didn't he tell us?"

An exasperated sigh came from his left side, where Hermione was crouched. "Honestly, Ron – don't you listen? Dumbledore's sending Hagrid on Hogwarts business….. top secret, he says."

"He is? Where was I?"

" Sitting right beside Hagrid, moaning about your tooth, I think." Harry grinned as Ron blushed in embarrassment, pink cheeks clashing horribly with his hair.

Ron couldn't believe he'd missed the news. "Are you *_serious* ??_" he asked incredulously, as they left their hiding place and crept past the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

" No, she's not – but I am."

A gravelly voice sounded behind them, making them spin around in shock. Harry's eyes widened in delight as he flung his arms around the intruder.

"Sirius!! But….I thought you were…..the Ministry….you're *_here*_!" 

Sirius's face split in a smile as his eyes swept over his godson, noting the happiness that seemed to linger around him, making him glow.

" The Ministry are aware that I'm here…..I have a letter for Dumbledore. A possible source of information – from an ex-Watcher by the name of Rupert Giles."

Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity. " A Watcher? What on earth is *_that_*?" 

" I have already revealed too much," Sirius said with a wink at the eager girl "However, if you happen to stumble on the answer in your research, that is a different matter."

Ron rolled his eyes, silently cursing Sirius for putting the idea into his friend's head. No doubt Hermione would be spending the rest of the week poring over books for information on 'Watchers'. Of course, that meant both he and Harry were doomed to extra library time. 

As if they didn't have enough to do.

Harry looked up at Sirius, . Although he had grown considerably in the last few years, his godfather still managed to be taller than him – in fact, almost everyone was taller than him…….except Lily. Thinking of Lily reminded him of something.

"Sirius – you have to meet Lily. You know – the girl I've been writing to you about?" 

Deciding that she was most probably still down in the dungeons, the group set off, Ron grinning at Harry's eager tone. It was glaringly obvious (even to him) that Harry had feelings for Lily… feelings that were more than just friendship. 

He supposed it was inevitable – many of their housemates, as well as a good portion of the Hogwarts males, held a soft spot in their heart for the petite blonde. If Ron himself hadn't developed a sudden (secret) crush on Hermione, he would probably be pursuing Lily too. Not that Harry was *pursuing* her exactly……

Ron was interrupted from his internal ramblings by the sudden silence. He looked up to see a frown on Sirius's face, as if he was trying to remember something important. Hermione had also noticed, and quickly jumped in to break the awkward silence.

"How long are you staying, Sirius?"

Sirius smiled warmly at her. " I'm just stopping by to deliver the letter. After that, I have to head back to America to continue my work, unfortunately." He ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. " I promise I'll hurry back as soon as I'm finished – perhaps Albus will let me stay for awhile." 

" Maybe he'll let you take over teaching DADA…. honestly, Professor King is hopeless. Doesn't know the first thing about vampires – we've just started them. I swear, she's almost as useless as Lock…….hey, what's this?" 

Ron had stopped in the door of their Potions classroom....and had noticed a trail of red splatters on the floor. It looked horribly like….

" Holy shit….it's *_blood_*."

With a growing air of panic, Harry took in the scene at the front of the room – an overturned cauldron leaking orange fluid onto the floor; papers, books and various ingredients lying haphazardly amongst the ruins of Snape's desk; a pool of blood drying black on the stone floor. 

He heard a hiss of breath behind him, and turned to see Sirius holding a silver sword, the blade liberally coated with blood. A roaring grew steadily in his ears, blocking out everything else around him. He could only think of one thing – something had happened during Lily's detention with Snape. Ignoring his friends and godfather, he turned and bolted toward the hospital wing.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other in horror. As one, they followed Harry, leaving Sirius alone in the room. Sirius was trying to connect something in his mind - something he had seen during his time 'undercover' in Sunnydale. It didn't make sense….and yet it nagged at him. Digging out a slightly creased photo Harry had owled to him almost two weeks after Lily had arrived, he stared at the four of them, laughing and waving at the camera. Sirius realized in shock that he had seen Lily someplace before.

_* That face – __Harry__'s mystery girl is the spitting image of __Rupert__Giles__'s Slayer. Granted, __Lily__'s a little younger than the Slayer… but the likeness is certainly there. They could be sisters. Simply  a coincidence? Or something else?*_

*********************************************************************

A/N: : Check out the evidence of my Giles muse hyped up on sugar! Eep…. Ah well, gotta keep 'em happy I guess.


	10. Ever Seeking Solace

A/N: I've been warned by my faithful beta that this chapter might disturb some readers. Consider this a warning: the last parts of Chapter 10 deal with some torture, or suggestions of. If you can handle watching BtVS, there shouldn't be a problem.

On with the show!

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 10:  Ever Seeking Solace**

_#Sunnydale#_

"Giles? Are you busy?"

Closing the fridge, Giles turned to see Willow standing in the door of the kitchen, dressed in sweats. It was obvious she had been disturbed from sleep, and for a moment the look in her green eyes reminded him of the painfully shy schoolgirl who he had first seen perusing the stacks in the old Sunnydale High School library.

 Willow's feet were bare, her hair slightly mussed. Still rubbing sleep from her eyes, she perched on a stool in front of the wide counter, resting her chin on her hand. 

Giles smiled at her, setting the growing list of needed groceries aside and moving to fill the kettle.

" I'm not busy at all, Willow. Cup of tea?"                 

The redhead smiled gratefully at him as they waited for the water to boil. Only when her hands were wrapped around a mug of hot tea did she speak, as if the warmth radiating from the mug gave her strength.

" Sleeping – apparently not of the good. I mean, I got to sleep okay…. But staying asleep – my mind just won't turn off so I figured I could maybe do some research on this prophecy so we know what we're facing, that way I could at least try and be useful...."

Giles cut off her breathless babbling. " You're already more useful than you'll ever know, Willow. I do understand your inability to sleep, though – why else do you think I'm making a grocery list at six o'clock in the morning?" Giles paused, taking in the dark circles lining Willow's eyes, the very air of exhaustion that seemed to hang over them all these past weeks. His tone was gentle as he met her eyes. "Something on your mind?" 

Her reflexes taking over, Willow began to shake her head, forcing a false smile onto her features. Then, as if realizing where she was, she stopped short, uncertain. Giles fought to suppress a sigh, instead reaching across the counter to place his hand on hers.

" Willow – there is no need for false pretences. If something is bothering you, you can tell me. You know that as well as anyone."

Willow sipped her tea gingerly, her eyes never leaving Giles's. Swallowing, she spoke softly, as if fearful that her voice would betray her.

"It's just… we've been researching this prophecy and getting nowhere. Patrolling. Trying to go on with our lives. Sometimes I forget, y'know? Tonight – we finished patrol, and all I could think of was getting home and telling Buffy how we staked four vampires, all by ourselves. I even went straight up to her room, almost expecting to find her carving stakes, or picking out tomorrow's stylish yet affordable ensemble  –  just being there, being Buffy. I knew she was gone – but for that one moment, just before I opened her door, I hoped she'd be there. Is that entirely stupid?"

Giles paused, choosing his words carefully against the growing ache in his chest. "It's not stupid at all. These things take time, Willow. It's only natural that you still hope Buffy will appear one day, that she'll come back to us unharmed. There's nothing we want more. Sometimes, though, the cards we want and the hand we are dealt are quite different. We - " Suddenly, Giles found he could not continue. For once, he could not step in to make everything better. 

Willow watched, tears welling in her eyes as the man she had come to think of as a sort of surrogate father buried his head in his hands. Rising, she circled the counter and wrapped her slender arms around the ex-Watcher. 

The kitchen was bathed in the rosy glow of the dawn, the tea sat forgotten on the bench.  The sounds of movement echoed above their heads as the other occupants of the house began to stir, preparing for another long day ahead. Still the witch and the ex-Watcher clung to each other, taking momentary shelter from the storm of grief raging through their shattered world.

As the sun chased away the horrors that lurked in the night, Willow and Giles finally allowed themselves to accept the loss of a Slayer, a daughter, a best friend. 

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

Said Slayer was currently sleeping, completely unaware of both her current surroundings and the world she'd left behind her. Under the watchful eyes of Madame Pomfrey, her injuries had already begun to heal; completely mystifying the matron, as well as the friends and assorted Professors that could often be found at her bedside.

Unbeknown to Madame Pomfrey, Harry was sitting in a chair beside Lily's bed, wrapped in the invisibility cloak. Despite the piles of homework awaiting him in Gryffindor tower, he felt oddly protective of the small blonde, a feeling which had driven him to her bedside the last two nights. He sat quietly, one of her small cold hands wrapped in his large warm one.

He could still remember the night they had discovered the wreckage in the Potions classroom, and the events following, as clear as day.

***

The first thing Harry saw as he flung open the doors to the hospital wing was Snape, his robes dark with blood, pacing beside a bed. Madame Pomfrey was bustling around, conjuring bandages and administering potions. For a moment, Harry was reminded of the night he had found Lily on the Hogwarts grounds. 

He hadn't thought it possible that someone could be as injured as she had been then – but as he approached the bed, the myriad of bruises and broken skin made him draw a panicked breath. 

Ron and Hermione burst in, Ron scowling when he saw Snape was there. "What did... mmph!" Hermione had stopped Ron from saying something else he would regret, clamping her hand over his mouth. 

She was rewarded with a glare, but Ron took the hint and bit back whatever comment he had been about to make. Much to Madame Pomfrey's annoyance, the Trio crowded around Lily's bed, staring in horror. Ushering them back, she continued to work, a frown creasing her usually motherly face. She spoke quietly to Snape as if they were alone.

" I don't understand, Severus. I've used my strongest potions – and not one of them has worked. She won't respond. I'll just have to stop the bleeding the Muggle way."

Snape nodded in agreement. " Perhaps Albus will be able to shed some light on the situation – I'm sure he will be arriving shortly."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the Headmaster himself appeared, Sirius in tow. Snape scowled at the sight of Sirius. Although the two men had developed a sort of forced tolerance for one another, Snape had never fully forgiven Sirius for the events in Harry's third year, nor for their history as Hogwarts students. 

Dumbledore's sharp glance reminded both the ex-Marauder and the current Potions Professor that there were more important things to focus on. Namely, the student lying unconscious in front of them. 

"What happened, Severus?"

Ignoring the fact that the Headmaster hadn't been addressing him, Ron opened his mouth to retort, no doubt full of nasty thoughts about Snape. This time, he shook Hermione's hand off impatiently, pushing her away.

"Get off, Hermione!" Her eyes widened and without a word she turned and rushed from the room. Before Ron could say anything, Dumbledore motioned for silence, turning to Snape expectantly. Snape responded quietly, glancing malevolently in the direction of the two students as though he wished they would disappear.

"Her injuries were caused by a Boggart, which Miss Asher fought quite admirably. Albus, I'm happy to explain this to you in more detail *alone* - but not here."

Harry watched as the Headmaster nodded gravely – though he suspected Dumbledore already knew what had happened. Beside him, he felt Ron stiffen. In the wake of his outburst, he had obviously remembered Hermione. Harry was just about to suggest he go after their friend, when Ron spun on his heel and followed the distraught witch.

Now only Harry, Sirius, Snape and Dumbledore were left in the room. Madame Pomfrey was still fussing over Lily, trying to repair the damage as best she could without magic. Harry frowned as a thought forced its way to the front of his mind.

" Professor Dumbledore…Why won't Madame Pomfrey's potions work on Lily? I mean, they worked when I - when we found her. And the other day, when we were practicing in Charms, Ron overdid his Changing Charm and Lily ended up with bright green hair….Magic worked before, why not now?"

Kindly eyes met his, as Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. " We originally assumed that Lily was unharmed when she dropped from the portal – apart from the loss of her memory. Perhaps something affected her after all – something that has been dormant until now, but was suddenly awakened. It may be that a part of her is now repelling magic."

"So she won't be able to do magic either?" Harry was suddenly frightened at the thought that Lily would be forced to leave Hogwarts – having no magic abilities, there would be no reason for her to stay.

" My dear boy, it would never come to that. Magic or muggle, Lily is welcome to stay as long as she wishes. Do you remember my words to you so many years ago? Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it – or, furthermore, to those who need it. I can hardly send Miss Asher away when she is so obviously in need of our help."

Harry blinked. Even after nearly six years at Hogwarts, it was still creepy when Dumbledore did his mind reading thing.

***

The Boy Who Lived was jolted back to reality when he felt Lily's hand begin to move in his. Her eyes snapped open, wide and frightened. She was struggling now, trying to pull her hand from his. Harry, not wanting her to wake Madame Pomfrey, tried to calm her. 

"Shh….Lils, it's only me. Harry. It's okay, I promise. You're safe."

She continued to struggle, not at all comforted by his murmured words. Her hazel eyes seemed to stare straight through him, as if he wasn't there - oh. Harry resisted the urge to smack himself in the head for his stupidity. He had forgotten about the invisibility cloak. Slowly, he began to pull it off, while whispering quietly to Lily, telling her what he was doing. No doubt the sight of his head floating in the air would be enough to frighten even the strongest of characters.

Lily watched warily as Harry appeared, the cloak sliding to the ground. He smiled at her, and she tried her best to smile back, wincing as her facial muscles protested at the sudden movement. Her whole head felt overly large. And foggy, as if there were something important she should remember.

"How long was I…" 

" Couple of days. How do you feel?"

" Peachy with a side of keen." Lily looked down at her chest, taking in the soreness and large bandage there. For the first time, she noticed that someone had changed her clothes – instead of the white shirt and black pants, she wore blue pajama pants and a pale pink tank. As if answering her unasked question, Harry spoke.

"Snape changed you." Noticing the horrified expression on Lily's face, he hastily explained. "With magic, I mean. Nothing to do with taking off your clothes. Not that that's a bad thing – I mean….er…" 

Harry felt all the blood in his body rush to his face. He had never been so embarrassed in his life – apart from that incident last year when he had volunteered to 'test' one of Fred and George's improved Canary Creams at dinner and had ended up clad only in his Gryffindor boxer shorts on top of the house table, a pile of yellow feathers at his bare feet.

Lily let out a rather unladylike snort of laughter at the mortified expression on Harry's face. If she hadn't been reminded of her injuries by the sudden, stabbing pain in her chest, she would have hugged him. Harry could be so adorable sometimes…

 A frosty breeze suddenly blew in through the half open window by her bed, making her shiver violently. Harry searched the room for another blanket, and upon finding none, he did something that was totally instinctive. 

He climbed up next to Lily on the bed, and gently wrapped his arms around her. Had Fred and George been there, they would have accused him of thinking with a part of his body that was most definitely *_not_* his brain. They would have been wrong – it wasn't about that. Not tonight.

To his utter surprise, Lily didn't push him away. Instead, he felt her relax into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. Lily was tired and confused, and all she was sure of was that Harry cared about her, that when he was nearby she felt safe. 

Loved, even. 

Their bond was about more than just a growing teenage crush. For now, Harry and Lily; although unaware that they were victims of the same pre-determined destiny, found a kind of peace in each other that neither could describe. 

After awhile, the only sound in the darkened room was soft  breathing as the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Died (Twice) drifted off to sleep.

*********************************************************************

Faith's existence had fallen into a kind of rhythm. It was impossible to tell night from day in the small space she was confined to – the windowless room was only lit by the small slice of flickering light visible under the heavy door. 

Most of the time, she was chained to one of the walls, hands and legs shackled. Unlike the flimsy prison handcuffs, which she could have easily snapped, these were heavy iron shackles that reminded her of an old movie she'd seen once. 

The name eluded her, but the image of a skeletal figure, strapped to some kind of torture wheel, remained in her mind. 

It was the image of torture that made her remember, she supposed. After all, what other name could be given to what was happening to her? 

Her albino-like jailer came every few hours, usually backed up by two or more hooded figures. And man, these guys were solid. Harder to hurt than Kakistos – not that she could even if she tried. Faith was fairly certain that they were all human – in some twisted form, at least. Besides, there were no handy super-sized stakes around. 

Nothing, in fact, that could be considered a weapon. Her new prison cell consisted solely of four walls, a door, and the shackles. It was worse than being in the solitary confinement she had heard much talk of in her former prison . At least there was some kind of toilet in solitary. Here – there were nothing but stains on the floor from previous occupants.

The groaning of the door swinging open interrupted her muddled thoughts. Faith had learned quickly that looking up or making any noise would bring pain. The once-fiery Slayer had had that fire beaten, kicked, and drugged out of her. The smallest spark remained deep inside her, fueled by memories that slipped further from her grasp day by day. 

Head lolling, Faith wondered if he would use the knife today, or just cut straight to the burning pain. She never thought the day would come when she would be afraid of something that so closely resembled a stake – but when he pointed it at her, it was all she could do to choke back a scream.

Faith closed her eyes, waiting for the first blow. The seconds ticked by slowly.

It never came.

Instead, an odd feeling of relaxation spread over her battered body. It was as if her mind had been completely wiped out, leaving her almost floating. Dimly aware of her surroundings, she felt her bindings drop to the floor, leaving her free for the first time since her capture. 

Standing unsteadily on legs that were thin and weak, Faith had no strength to do anything but follow the cloaked figures out of the room, and down a torch-lit corridor. In fact, she had no great urge to fight against the peace that had a firm grasp on her mind.

After all, it was a hell of a lot easier to take than the pain.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

The bell over the Magic Box door tinkled as Dawn stepped into the shop, schoolbooks in tow. Slinging her backpack into a corner, she joined Xander at the table, grabbing a donut from the box in front of him.

" So what's the what? Did we solve the riddle yet? Did Giles find out what the shiny ball thing is? Where's Willow? And Tara?"

Xander held up his hands against the flow of questions, mumbling through a mouthful of donut. " Hey, whoa there Cowgirl. Some of us can only handle one thought at a time. Right now I'm concentrating on the sugary goodness." He yelped as Anya plucked the remains of said sugary goodness from his hand.

The ex-demon glared at him. " How are we supposed to get married if you can't even fit into your suit? The little man at the shop was quite nasty about refunds and exchanges. Plus, his head was oddly shiny. He's the kind that should have boils put on his penis – I'll have to ask Halfrek about it at the bridal shower." 

Xander stared at her. "Okay, number one; I don't think having a reflecting dome warrants boils, and number two…..boils?" 

"Let it go, sweetie."

Dawn pouted. Once again, nobody was paying attention to her. Fine. If they wanted to be like that, she would just get her stuff and – run straight into Spike. Uh-oh.

"Where do you think you're going, Nibblet? Sun's almost down. Nasty things come out to play after dark."

"On your way out there, Captain Peroxide? The all-you-can-drink buffet is open for business. Should be a hell of a time for all you undead types. Oh, but wait!" Xander gasped in mock horror. " The other puppies don't like the smell of your butt anymore."

Anya peered around Xander. "What's wrong with Spike's butt? I think it's cute. You could bounce a nickel off of that ass." 

Spike's response was to flash a smirk of satisfaction Xander's way, before giving Dawn a look. " You're staying here, Bit. I need to talk to the Watcher. Where is he, anyway? Got somethin' he might like to have a peep at."

Xander motioned toward the door. " He's not here. What a shame. Bye now!" 

"Well, did he say where he was goin' then? This is bloody important!" Spike growled.

"Perhaps I can help you out with that?" An unexpected voice behind him made Spike whirl around, eyes flashing amber. All eyes were focused on Wesley as he stepped through the doorway, eyes roaming the shop curiously. 

Anya shrugged. "Sorry, wrong Watcher. We're having a meeting. And we're closed. So go away." 

Before anyone could apologise to Wesley, the door opened once again, and three more people entered. Spike snorted.

"Bloody fantastic. Crew's all here then." He nodded at each of them in turn, eyes lingering on Cordelia. " Seer, looking good. Love the hair." 

Cordelia resisted the sudden urge to pat her head , instead raising her eyebrows at him. "Bite me, Bleach." 

Spike looked shocked. "What? With everyone here? Stop by my crypt later, love, we'll talk donation." Wesley stepped in front of her, glaring. "Or not."

From behind Gunn, there was a small squeak. "Charles, you said he was neutered." 

"Hey! I'm not bloody neutered! All parts in full working order here!" 

Cordelia rolled her eyes as Fred squeaked once again. "Unfortunately, his mouth works just fine."

"So where's the Magnificent Poof? Wouldn't be a party without an ass-pansy."

Gunn glanced over his shoulder quickly before replying. " Prob'ly re-gelling the 'do. Someone ditched his super-strength hair goop before we left – the blanket he wore on the way down is hell on the hair." This revelation scored a chuckle from most of the people in the shop. Spike eyed Gunn with new appreciation.

"Y'know, Chuck, you've got a fair set of stones. A bloke could get to like you. Have to warn you though – Peaches won't be all moment-of-happiness when he finds out about this." 

"Finds out about what, Spike?" 

If Gunn could have turned lily white, he would have. As it were, he blanched as Angel's voice sounded dangerously close to his ear. Wesley suddenly seemed extremely interested in examining the paintwork. 

Cordelia's eyes widened as Fred scampered from behind Gunn to hide behind…Spike? 

Not one for awkward silences, Anya stepped toward Angel and quirked an eyebrow. 

"You look like crap. Is that the style now?"

There was a collective snort of laughter from practically everyone. 

Angel just glared.

*********************************************************************

#_Hogwarts#_

"Hermione?"

Her eyes remained fixed on one of the books in the enormous pile sitting in front of her. Like the others, it was useless, but for now it proved a welcome distraction from a certain red-haired Weasley who was desperately trying to get *some* kind of reaction.

"Aw, come on Hermione, you aren't going to ignore me forever, are you?"

No response. The library was silent – with only two weeks to go until the Christmas holidays, studying was the furthest thing from most students' mind. Unless of course they were the brightest witch in the sixth year, on a continuing search for information on whatever a 'Watcher' might be.

" Hermione….I said I was sorry! What else do you want?"

At the moment, the student quota in the library was two – and as far as Hermione was concerned, that was one too many. Still, a part of her wished she hadn't started this cold silence between herself and Ron.

 That small yet persistent part wanted nothing more than to meet his eyes, to assure him that everything was okay between them. That they could go back to being the 'chums' they had been up until two days ago. 

"Please, 'Mione…will you just *_look_* at me? I want things to go back to the way they were….when we were friends."

Unfortunately, something had hit her the night she had fled to her dormitory sobbing – no matter how hard she tried to be *_just friends_* with Ron Weasley, she wished he would see her as something more. She had suddenly seen a hint of who he would become - who he already was -  and the knowledge had slapped her in the face. 

It was as if her mind had kept him frozen as an eleven-year-old for the last five years. How ironic that she, widely known to be the smartest student at Hogwarts, couldn't even see what had been happening right in front of her?

"Hermione, I know you're not reading."

" Of course I'm reading!" She flinched in synch with Ron at the harsh sound of her voice. Always persistent, Ron stepped forward until Hermione could feel his warm breath on the back of her exposed neck. The sensation made her insides liquefy. She was certain her neck had just turned scarlet…and prayed that Ron hadn't noticed.

"Then why are you holding your book upside down?"

Darn it. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation. Okay, a semi-plausible explanation. Any explanation at all?

"I….uh….I just…." Hermione stammered, silently cursing books and cleverness. What use were facts (like knowing the twenty-seven different enchantments protecting Hogwarts) when it came to something like this? Why hadn't she paid more attention to Lavender and Parvarti's night-time giggling about 'girly things'?

Why was Ron staring so – hungrily - at her lips?

" Ron, what….."

Hermione didn't get a chance to finish her question, the sudden passionate kiss taking not only her voice but her breath away. 

For the first time in her entire life, Hermione Granger's brain temporarily shut down. 

*********************************************************************

A smell of mildew and copper hung thick in the air. No, not copper – blood. A male voice echoed dimly within the room, yet nobody else seemed to hear it.

*_It's always gotta be blood*_

There was something happening at the front of the room – something she needed to see. Instinct told her that it was probably not wise to simply push through the crowd of hooded figures. She stretched out to her full (though not particularly impressive) height, dimly aware of a stabbing pain in her chest, and managed to peek through a gap between two heads.

The little she could see stole her breath away, an iron fist tightening around her stomach as she fought down nausea. 

Three bloody figures were pinned to the wall, unmoving. Two appeared to be adult – the other was a child. All were bloodied and broken, yet the only sound in the room was a hissing voice that she could not place.

Whoever had done – that – to those poor people had to be some kind of monster.

Then she saw them. Two shadowy forms, standing apart from the others.

Red eyes glowed from underneath a draped hood, their cruel gaze settling for a moment upon the impassive face of a dark-haired girl. Dull chocolate eyes met fiery red for a moment, before lowering subserviently. 

The smaller of the two started toward the front of the room, an intricately carved knife gripped tightly in her hand. Somehow, though smaller, she was no less menacing – but there was something about the way she moved……her hair. 

This was the girl from the dream – the mysterious 'friend.' And she was…..

Oh God.

The dark-haired girls' movements were like a gruesome poetry – a fatal car crash that you just can't tear your eyes away from, no matter how much you want to. The knife flashed slowly as it ripped through tender, young skin. The child.

Blood began to flow, a drip that increased slowly until it was pouring from the slices the knife inflicted, spattering onto the stone floor. All eyes were riveted on the dark splatters, a person's lifeblood draining slowly from their exposed flesh.

_* Blood is life. It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead_ * That same voice again, the English accent stronger this time.

Still the knife continued to flash as flesh peeled from bone, the dark-haired girl methodically working, pausing only to wipe stray drips from her dulled eyes. Still nobody moved.

The red-eyed shape broke the silence. "That is enough, Slayer. Come here." 

The command was obeyed instantly, the dark-haired girl returning to her original position at his side. 

"Slayer. This is what you are. It is what you were born for. Do you feel the power pulse inside you? Can you taste the darkness like you can taste the blood?"

A pink tongue snaked from the girl's mouth, lapping at the blood on her lips. The knife dropped to the floor as the hissing continued.

 "This is all that you are. The power. The evil. It writhes inside your very soul. Those who walk in the light cannot understand it. They are merely jealous – they want what only you have inside you. Should you give them the chance, they will wrench it from your grasp, leaving behind only emptiness. Weakness. You are not weak. Together we shall make this world what it should be – we shall strike fear into every heart."

A bony hand extended to sweep the room. "They are fearful of you. This can only make you stronger, for as long as there is fear, there is power. As long as there is power – we can rule."

His voice rose, a twisted call of triumph. " Come, my faithful ones. There is much to do before the final battle." Robes swirled as figures vanished into the air. Soon, only a handful were left. 

Standing in the shadows, Lily watched, ice creeping through her veins as the hissing shape drew a wand and touched the forearm of the shadow closest to him. A powerful force swept through the room, sending all but herself, the dark-haired girl, and the wizard formerly known as Tom Riddle to their knees. 

Evil eyes flared with some form of joy as a high, cold laugh echoed above the cries of pain. 

"Let us begin."

*********************************************************************

The easy peace of the Hogwarts hospital wing was shattered as Lily's terrified screams tore through the air. Her eyes were wild as she sat up, clawing at something only she could see. 

Harry was catapulted from the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. Clutching his throbbing scar, he could only watch with haunted eyes as Madame Pomfrey tried desperately to calm her. A heavy realization had settled like ice in his stomach.

Voldemort had regained full power. The coming days could only be dark.

*****

Severus Snape was making dark slashes with his quill across abysmal third year Potions essays when he heard the screams echoing through the corridors. Before he could rise, he felt a pain in his arm that could only mean one thing. 

The essays forgotten, he fell to his knees, watching in horror as the outlines of the skull flowed with new ink, bulging against his otherwise pale skin. 

The screaming outside lessened, fading away to harsh sobs. Snape, Head of Slytherin House and the most feared teacher in the school, could do little more than bite back a scream of his own as the Dark Mark continued to burn.

*********************************************************************

A/N: Next time - The Scoobies and Fang Gang *finally* make some progress with the prophecy. Plus, we cross live to Hogwarts where Snape is glaring, new romance is in the air, and somebody has found out exactly *who* 'Lily' is.


	11. Getting Personal

First and foremost, I have to apologise for the delay in this chapter – what with uni exams, the spectacular corruption and subsequent crashing of my computer, work commitments, and a whole bunch of other stuff, new chapters have been pretty much put on hold. I'll be good, and write lots, I promise. 

Second, a great big thankyou to all those who contributed – there have been some fantastic suggestions, and some that are rather…quirky. *grin* As promised, I'll try to use everything in some form. The lines are still open to put in suggestions if you're suddenly inspired….I'd love to hear more.

Know what? I've said enough – time for the new chapter. As always, feedback is the wind in my sails. Let's get this boat moving, people!

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 11: Getting Personal**

_# Casa De Summers, Sunnydale#_

"She did _what_?"

" Let me get this straight… you've found nothing related to this prophecy at all?"

" Hey Angel, man, any chance of getting some regular people food in here? If you'd just hand over the damn keys…"

" Microwave's buggered, Rupes."

"No way – she really wore that? In public? Colour me stunned!"

" We've exhausted our resources already – I'm sure the Sunnydale public library is fresh out of mystical 17th century texts. Of course, if you have any other ideas…"

"Not a chance, Charles."

"Guys…"

" Spike, we've been over this. Retrieve blood bag from fridge. Put hole in said bag with fork or knife or that 16th century hole-poking thing in the china cupboard. Nuke blood bag. Bottoms up."

" Xander, do we have to stay here? That girl keeps staring at me. It's disconcerting."

"Hey! Guys!"

" I'm sure our supplier can find something that will help. She's rather good with the obscure."

" Hole? Bloody Hell…."

" Anya, maybe if you stopped trying to shock Fred with your… unique views on life, she wouldn't stare."

" Dawnie, have you finished your math?"

" HEY! SHUT UP!"

The room fell silent, eleven surprised faces turning in response to Willow's shout of frustration. From her place on the Summers' couch, the red-haired witch sighed.

" Look, I don't mean to come over all dictatorish, but I'm not gunning for the world to end while we sit around and catch up. There's evil afoot, remember?"

Nine faces displayed varied expressions of guilt. Spike caught himself in time, remembering his man…pire pride, and schooled his features into a smirk. Anya just looked bored. 

"Well, can we get on with it? I'm hungry. Obviously somebody who shall remain nameless forgot to go to the grocery store again… In case you didn't know, Giles, I'm talking about you."

The Sunnydale contingent hid their grins as Anya directed an indignant glare at the ex-Watcher. Cordelia let out a most unladylike snort at Giles' expression. 

" Bet you wish I was still around, huh?"

"Well…"

" So, what's the battle plan?" Willow cut in quickly, not letting Xander finish his sentence. The last thing they needed was a repeat of the Cordelia/Xander high school wars. (Although it was slightly comforting to know that some things would never change)

Giles took charge, filling the LA crew in on all that had happened in Sunnydale since Buffy's death. Within minutes, the level of noise was deafening as members of the Scoobies added their own versions of the ex-Watchers story. Amid the chatter, Anya raised an eyebrow at Cordelia, moving closer to Xander protectively. After all, this was Queen C, Xander's high school enemy slash closet groper. It had always been a running joke within the Scoobies that Xander liked his women with a little mystical energy in them – something that the dark haired girl now had. 

Anya, on the other hand, was thoroughly human, though she had once heard Giles say that her particular brand of honesty made him wonder whether there was some demon left in her after all. Turning her hand slightly so that her diamond ring flashed brilliantly into Cordelia's eyes, Anya grinned at the Seer's shocked double-take.

_*That's right, __Queen __C.__ Your broom closet days are over.*_

"Anya? What do you think?"

Anya stared blankly at Giles, realizing she had no idea what he was talking about. He continued.

"Are you willing to do it? Of course, if you don't think you can handle it…"

With a quick glance Cordelia's way, Anya flashed Giles a thousand-watt smile. This was her chance to prove she could be useful – she could do something that Cordelia couldn't.

" Yes! I can do it! Nobody else could do it better than me. After all, I do have that way with doing… those things. You can count on me, Giles!"

Giles, as well as the others, looked mildly surprised at Anya's emphatic response. Xander looked as though a truck had just run over his foot….and then reversed.

As soon as the meeting broke for dinner, Anya pulled Dawn aside. 

" You were listening to Giles."

Dawn grinned at her. "Yup. How did he talk you into it?"

" Well… here's the thing. The meeting was incredibly boring. So…"

The youngest Summers' already large eyes widened with what looked suspiciously like mirth. " You didn't listen, did you? Oh boy – I wondered how he did it. Guess the mind control theory is out."

" Stop laughing! What do I have to do?" Anya was beginning to panic.

" Oh, you're *_so_* not gonna like this…" 

Leaning closer to Anya, Dawn quickly explained. For a moment, there was a horrified silence in the room.

"Oh, _CRAP_."

*********************************************************************

_*Malfoy Manor*_

Narcissa Malfoy was troubled.

 In past weeks, Malfoy Manor had been eerily quiet; apart from the occasional glimpse of a house-elf, Narcissa had been utterly alone. Not that she minded much – in fact, it was quite a welcome change to have neither Draco nor Lucius darkening her elegant new furnishings with their ceaseless scowls. 

Communication between the occupants of the Manor had never been a priority. Other wives whose husbands were in Lucius's line of work lamented that communication was forbidden, that their darling Erwic or Ralphonse would surely write if they had the chance.

Narcissa knew with a cold certainty that her husband would barely pause to think of those he left behind. It would never occur to Lucius to send an owl.

Draco? By now, the heir to the Malfoy fortune was far past the age where he needed his mother for anything at all really. Years ago there had been cut fingers begging to be kissed, childish fears to soothe in the darkness of the night. 

Narcissa could remember her son's  early years, a time when Lucius had been....hiding? No. Searching for the Potter boy, a helpless infant much like her dear, rosy-cheeked son. Draco had been a few days shy of his sixth birthday when his father had returned to them: and yet, by the time he was seven, Lucius had already begun 'preparing' him for his future. 

It brought bitter relief to know he was at Hogwarts, away from his father for the better part of the year. Draco was sixteen, almost a Hogwarts graduate. 

Almost a Death Eater like his father.

Keeping her features neutral to hide her thoughts, Narcissa raised her eyes from her meal, gaze wandering to the very end of the table where two figures sat silently. Lucius had barely spoken a word to his wife since his arrival home the previous morning, spending most of his time in the western wing of the Manor. Narcissa was not concerned about this, in fact chose to ignore it.

The other figure, however, was one she could not help but notice.

Dark hair pooled limply around a pale face, hiding it from view. This strange girl moved through the hallways in a savage kind of poetry, deadly and beautiful all at once. Narcissa had first seen her – patrolling?- the second floor, had  been left breathless for a moment by her eyes. They echoed with the familiar emptiness of the Imperius curse. Narcissa imagined they had once been filled with fire, with passion. She remembered an old Muggle saying she had heard long ago.

"The eyes are the windows to the soul." 

The light that had once shone behind those beautiful dark eyes had been extinguished, her windows were shuttered and dark.

Those eyes now raised to Narcissa's pale blue, and the mistress of Malfoy Manor felt icy fingers grip her heart.

Just for a moment, she thought she could see unimaginable sorrow; a world of longing flicker in the captive Slayer's deep brown eyes.

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

"You know, it's a pity Snape isn't ill more often – I could get used to this." Ron commented to Harry as they leant into the icy wind, their brooms slicing through the clean air high above the Quidditch pitch. Below them, the pitch was invisible beneath the thick layer of snow that had kept students and Quidditch teams alike trapped indoors for the past week. 

Urging his broom downward, Harry could barely make out the red and gold clad figures of the other sixth year Gryffindors enjoying a temporary respite from their classes. As he drew nearer, closely shadowed by Ron, Seamus Finnigan whooped and flicked his wand in their direction, sending a snowball hurtling past Harry's right ear. 

A second snowball followed, and once again Harry managed to dodge, pulling up sharply on the handle of his Firebolt. Climbing until he was well out of reach, Harry spun dizzily in the air, stifling laughter as he saw Ron speed toward him, covered in melting snow. A thought suddenly occurred to Harry, and he waited for Ron to draw level with him, the pair hovering lazily.

"Don't you think it's odd?"

Ron shook his head, pelting Harry with tiny, icy droplets. "What, that Finnegan actually managed to hit something that was moving? He couldn't direct a hex at an extra large, immobile troll on a good day!"

Harry grinned, glancing down to see Parvarti and Lavender pelting Seamus with perfectly aimed, extremely slushy snowballs. 

" No…well, yes. That's not what I meant though. Snape hasn't missed a lesson in six years, and suddenly he's too ill to teach and we get the afternoon off?"

Ron looked at him as if he were mad. " We've got a whole afternoon without Snape,  without the Slytherins, and you want to send Snape a get well card? Harry mate, are you sure you haven't taken one too many Bludgers to the brain?"

Below them, there was a sudden shriek. Harry couldn't tell if it had come from one of the girls, or Seamus. Holding his Firebolt steady against the increasing wind, he squinted at Ron through his foggy glasses. It was suddenly important that he make Ron understand. 

"Think about it for a second. _Snape's the Potions Professor_. He makes all the Potions for the hospital wing, for cripes' sake. Why couldn't he just brew up something to make himself better?"

Ron shrugged, his eyes fixed on two figures huddled together on the ground. Following his gaze, Harry could just make out the familiar shapes of Lily and Hermione, standing apart from their frolicking housemates. The two girls were deep in conversation, both looking serious. Apparently unaware they were being watched, both girls suddenly laughed, the sound ringing through the stands. 

Harry grinned at the sight, relieved that Lily had come out of the shell she had been retreating into more and more lately. Out of the hospital wing for a week, Lily had been almost silent until now, refusing to tell even Hermione what had frightened her so. Hermione had confessed to a concerned Harry that the younger girl had been sobbing in the dormitory at night, but when questioned Lily had refused to even look at any of her best friends.

" Wish there was a handbook for girls. I just can't figure her out."

Startled, Harry looked at Ron, who was still staring at the girls, apparently unaware he'd spoken. 

"Eh?"

Ron blushed scarlet, tearing his gaze away and focusing on Harry. He sighed, his ancient broom wobbling dangerously. " One minute she's all eager, and the next she's ignoring me completely! I asked her what was up, but will she tell me and make it easy? Hell no!"

Harry blinked, resisting the urge to clean out his ears. He couldn't have heard right. Ron liked Lily? How blind had he been? He had to force the question out against the pounding of his heart.

"You……and Lily? You….you….together?" Harry hated his stammering. To his shock, Ron shook his head emphatically, eyes wide.

" What kind of friend d'ya think I am? Everyone knows you're crazy about your mystery girl. You'd have to be blind not to see it, mate."

Harry stared at Ron for a moment before it sunk in. " You and Hermione?"

Ron nodded, his eyes darting down to the ground again. Harry edged closer on his Firebolt, slapping Ron on the back heartily in both relief and delight. Perhaps a little too hard, for Ron's borrowed school broom tipped dangerously to one side. By some miracle, he managed to stay upright, gripping the handle with white knuckles. Harry stifled a snort of laughter as he realized Ron's eyes had not left Hermione once.

"What are they talking about down there, anyway?"

"No idea. Probably you."

"Really? You think so?" Ron glanced anxiously at Harry. Harry just grinned at him. 

"Oh."

*********

"What do you think they're talking about up there?"

Lily's eyes darted to where Ron and Harry hovered, dark-robed blurs against the increasingly grey sky. Beside her, Hermione clutched the small jar of blue fire tightly, hands pink with the cold.

" Who? Oh, Ron and Harry. I didn't even notice they were there." Hermione hoped the sudden rush of heat to her face had slipped past Lily.

Lily just stared at her, one eyebrow raised. " You're joking, right? Next you're gonna tell me you've spent the last ten minutes looking for stars. In the middle of the afternoon."

Hermione struggled to keep her face neutral. "Wh-what do you mean?" 

" No offense 'Mione, but lying? Not your strength. What's the what with you and a certain redhead? Wake up and smell the hottie!"

Hermione couldn't help but grin at Lily. The younger girl's expressions were a source of great amusement to all three of the original Hogwarts crew. Ron often joked that they needed someone fluent in Lily-speak to understand her. Unfortunately, Hermione had understood perfectly. There was nothing to do but come clean, explain in a sensible and coherent way.

"Er…. Ron and I….there was a….in the library….researching Watchers….we…. together."

Where was the English language when you needed it?

Fortunately, Lily was fluent in Babbling Hermione. Her eyes widened in delight. For a moment all other thoughts fled her mind. Eyeing their fellow Gryffindors close by, Lily leaned toward Hermione, practically bursting with excitement. 

" You kissed him? Hermione, that's fantastic! Not to mention long overdue….were there tingles?" Embarrassed, Hermione could only nod. Lily squealed, then clapped a hand over her mouth as Lavender and Parvarti quit pelting Seamus with snow and looked their way.

" Oops…loudness. Sorry. Back to you and Ron….are you – hey!" Hermione followed Lily's gaze to the boys, who were deep in conversation and unaware they were about to have company. Lily pointed at the three figures.

"What are those slimy Slytheries doing up there?"

*******

"Oh look, a touching moment for Potty and the Weasel. What's the matter, Weasley, did Potty turn you down?"

Fortunately, Ron was unable to do anything more than clench his fists tighter at the sudden sound of Malfoy's sneering voice. Harry spun his broom sharply to face the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and sure enough, his pale face was set in a taunting smirk. Behind him, as always, were Crabbe and Goyle, struggling to stay on their brooms.

" What's the matter, Potter? Afraid I'll spill your secret? Honestly, what you Gryff boys do in your dormitory is your business." 

Harry gritted his teeth, keeping both hands firmly on his Firebolt lest one of them connect with Malfoy's face. With a lazy wave to Crabbe and Goyle, apparently telling them to stay where they were, Malfoy circled Harry, stopping when he was face to face with Ron. 

Eyeing the shabby broom Ron was now in control of, Malfoy's sharp eyes darted toward the ground, where the Gryffindors watched eagerly. Ron chanced a quick glance toward Hermione, hoping Malfoy hadn't noticed.

No such luck.

Harry watched with a sinking feeling as the Slytherin's eyes turned in the direction of Lily and Hermione, the smirk on his face replaced by a look that Harry couldn't read. 

" Sorry Potter, looks like you've been cast aside. Weasel's got himself a girlfriend, boys. And what a lovely thing she is too!" 

Before either Ron or Harry could react, Malfoy's wand was out and pointed at Ron. He muttered something, and Ron's tightly clenched hands swelled up to triple their normal size. His grip on the Comet faltered, and the broomstick began to wobble dangerously. Malfoy's smirk returned as Ron fumbled for a grip, then awkwardly began to steer toward solid ground. 

Malfoy's triumphant shout echoed in Harry's ears. "See if Asher will still want your hands on her now, Weasel. Maybe she's into that kind of thing. Let me know how it all works out for you….I'm sure there's enough of her for all of us."

Harry felt a sudden rush of rage pound through his body. He spurred his broom toward Malfoy, who suddenly lost his smirk at the look in Harry's eyes. 

Harry wasn't quite sure when Malfoy had whirled on his broom and shot away, or why he was currently following close behind his blonde rival. Crabbe and Goyle, unable to keep up with the pair, had dropped behind and were uselessly staring in their direction. The Hogwarts grounds whirled by as Malfoy dove and swerved, Harry pushing his Firebolt faster in order to keep up. 

Harry chanced a swift glance at the ground below, hoping that Ron had managed to get down safely. To his relief, Ron was standing between Lily and Hermione, all three of them waving frantically at him. Were they trying to tell him something?

Whipping his head to the front, Harry was confronted with the sight of the Ravenclaw stands directly ahead of him. Malfoy had disappeared. Pulling up on his broomstick with all his strength, Harry heard only a deafening roaring in his ears as the world tilted alarmingly.

**********

"Oh bloody hell, what is he DOING? I can't watch." Ron covered his eyes with his misshapen hands as Harry shot upwards at a death-defying angle, his slipstream whipping the Ravenclaw banners into a frenzy. 

There was a gasp of relief from the spectators on the ground as Harry cleared the stands by mere inches, then leant forward and resumed chasing Malfoy, who had reappeared from behind a goalpost.

A delighted shiver shot through him as Hermione squeaked in fright and buried her face in his shoulder. From his other side, he felt Lily nudge him none too subtly, without taking her eyes off the spectacular chase through the sky. 

Ron reached out with a heavy hand and drew Hermione closer, muttering words he hoped were comforting. The faint honeysuckle smell of her hair was driving him mad, and to his horror he could feel a stirring begin in his…lower regions.

_*Think unsexy thoughts. Freshly vomited slugs. __Crabbe__ and Goyle naked.__ Hippogriff dung. Snape naked. Hermione naked. Bollocks!*_

A furious voice interrupted his internal rambling. The Gryffindors weren't the only ones who had noticed the impromptu chase. McGonagall had arrived, robes flapping in indignation. 

" WHAT is going on here?" In the blink of an eye, McGonagall's wand was out, and tapping her throat. "Sonorus!"

Ron winced as a magically magnified voice boomed directly in his ear, startling Hermione who jumped as though she'd been bitten.

_"__HARRY__POTTER__! __DRACO__MALFOY__! KINDLY STOP THIS CHILDISH DISPLAY AND COME DOWN AT ONCE!"_

McGonagall continued ranting angrily, but all Ron could think of was the tantalizing smell of Hermione's hair, the feel of her soft body pressing into his. 

_* Snape naked. Snape dancing naked. Snape dancing naked with Flitwick. Snape dancing naked with Flitwick on top of the Gryffindor table. Hermione…. naked….dancing…table.* _

"Bloody Hell."

*********************************************************************

A/N: I know, it's only a short update today – this part ended up being SO long that I was forced to divide it in half. This seemed the best place to do it. 

As always, drop me a line, let me know whether you loved or hated it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, it makes me write faster ( except when that pesky thing called Real Life gets in the way.)


	12. Trust Issues

A/N: My computer is a piece of…poop. The contents of my entire hard drive – gone. Chapters 12 through 18 – gone. Grr. Stupid 'dread machines.' *end rant*

As always, thanks to everyone who has emailed me or reviewed – it totally makes my day. There's been lots of questions/requests about pairings: I'm keeping quiet for now, so please don't email me asking me to tell you. Just remember – anything is possible at this stage. *grin*

Disclaimer: If I were making money out of this, I would get a computer that DOESN'T refuse to type the letter 'e' at random intervals. Obviously, I'm not. Why? Because they're not mine.

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**Chapter 12: Trust Issues**

_#Hogwarts#_

The Slytherin common room was silent and cold, lit only by the flickering tongues of the subdued fire. It was well past midnight, and the members of Slytherin house had long since retreated to their dormitories, on strict orders from their Head of House. Despite the casual indifference for school rules that the students clad in green and silver radiated to the other Hogwarts pupils, disobedience was not something that one practiced in the vicinity of Snape. He was, after all, a high ranking Death Eater, knew most of their parents, and had parental consent to use whatever means necessary to school their offspring in preparation for taking the Mark.

Of course, if there was ever an exception to the rule, Draco Malfoy was it.

The Slytherin Prince lounged in front of the inadequate fire, staring sightlessly into its depths as though he could see something hidden within the flames. Without the arrogance that seemed to be permanently etched into his features, he was almost unrecognizable. Certainly none of his housemates had seen thoughtful-Malfoy-face. 

Despite the concentration required for the task at hand, he couldn't help seeing huge hazel eyes and a mass of shining blonde hair swimming in his mind. Curse as he might, the image kept intruding at the worst of times. The Malfoy blood coursing through his veins was screaming. A Slytherin – a Malfoy no less – having decidedly lusty thoughts about a Gryffindor? 

It was unheard of. He was Draco Malfoy, prefect and Quidditch captain of Slytherin house, Chief Scorner of Mudbloods and Gryffindors. Primed since childhood for an illustrious career tormenting Muggles, serving his Dark Lord, and whatever else it was Death Eaters did with their time.

The only problem was, Draco was no longer certain that his father's life was what he truly wanted. In fact, he didn't know *what* he wanted for his future. For the present, his only wish was to have – 

His musing was interrupted by a sudden surge of flames. In an instant, his mask of cold indifference had returned – just in time to see his expression mirrored by the face that had appeared in the fire.

"Hello Father."

Lucius gave no indication that he had heard his son's greeting, his icy eyes sweeping every inch of his heir's form. Draco fought to suppress a shiver. 

" Son. Have you done as I instructed?"

_^I will never follow your orders like a blind Basilisk, Father.^_

 It was only through years of practice that Draco managed to keep his face neutral, betraying none of his internal thoughts.

" Of course, Father. Unfortunately, there have been no signs that anything more powerful than the weakest of Muggles has arrived at Hogwarts. I request our Lord's permission to continue searching."

Draco waited in feigned anticipation for his fathers reply. _^ Our Lord? The day I pander to Voldemort will be the day I allow my skin to tan.^_

Lucius's head radiated displeasure so intense, Draco could almost see it crackling in the fire. After a moment, he nodded in silent assent.

" I need not remind you how important this weapon is to our cause, Son. To fail the Dark Lord would be most foolish."

" You have my word that I will use every method available to unearth this weapon, Father. Our Lord's anger is not something I am eager to receive."

Lucius raised a sculpted eyebrow in what Draco hoped was acceptance. "Very well. I shall be in contact should we learn any more information."

_^ Only then, Father? Suits me.^_

Draco had a sudden thought. " Send my greetings to Mother."

Lucius did not respond, merely narrowed his eyes. The fire gave a sudden crackle, the flames receding until the grate was empty and dark. Draco felt every muscle in his body relax. His mind was blissfully empty for a moment. 

Seconds later, Lily Asher was back in his thoughts.

**************************************************************************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

Night time in Sunnydale was a dangerous place for the average citizen. In true Sunnydale fashion, the townspeople chose to ignore the whispers of strange deaths and sometimes disappearances. Parents told bedtime stories about monsters and the bogeyman to their kindergarteners; drove their middle school sons and daughters to and from sleepovers and campouts in someone else's backyard. 

They warned their teenagers about the dangers of alcohol, sex, drugs, and cutting through the cemetery on their way home from the Bronze – in typical rebellion, the quiet in any of the many cemeteries was often disturbed by groups of frightened girls and strutting boys with something to prove.

Tonight was no different. Eyes gleamed among the trees as an unassuming couple strolled through the sea of marble and granite, the girl giggling nervously as her boyfriend released her hand to pluck a fresh flower from a fallen graveside arrangement. Presenting it to her with a flourish, their lips met for a moment in a chaste kiss which quickly turned into something more passionate. Silently, figures began to creep towards the oblivious pair, golden glints flashing in their eyes. One of these night creatures tapped the dark-skinned boyfriend on the shoulder politely.

"Scuse me sir. Sorry to bother you, but we're new here, and we were wondering if you know where we can find something to eat?"

A scream pierced the air, and the man smiled, pointed teeth glinting in the moonlight as the fragile-looking girl struggled against the two men who held her captive. 

"Well, look at that boys. Meals on Wheels."

Her boyfriend, pinned in a similar fashion, struggled weakly, pleading desperately.

" You're hurtin' her! We got money, if that's what you're after. Take it, man. Just let her go. I'm beggin' ya."

Their eyes widened as the men before them turned into something worthy of a late-night horror movie. The girl began to sob, going limp in her captors arms. Her long brown hair fell from her face, revealing a smooth, creamy neck. The vampire holding her ran his tongue over his fangs in anticipation.

" Can I eat her now, boss? Bet she'll be sweet as sugar…."

The leader of the group eyed the boyfriend, who was staring in horror. He leaned close to his frightened meal.

 " Hey, don't be scared. It'll be over in no time. Won't hurt a bit." There was a sickening crunch of bone as the boyfriend shook off his captors and put his fist through the lead vampire's nose, borrowed blood spurting from the wound. The vampire was dust before the blood had a chance to hit the ground. 

Gunn grinned, wiping his fist on another vamp's shirt an instant before he drove a second stake home.

" You're dead wrong, man. It's gonna hurt a helluva lot." There was silence for a moment, before all hell broke loose. 

***

Two figures perched on a marble headstone a short distance away, keeping a careful eye on the fighting. Armed with stakes, a crossbow, and a razor sharp sword, they were ready to jump into the fray at a moments notice. Fortunately, their co-workers appeared to be holding their own rather nicely, Gunn's hubcap axe glinting in the moonlight as yet another vampire lost his head. Cordelia raised an eyebrow in scorn.

 " They actually fell for the helpless-couple act? Is it just me, or is the undead population of this town dumbing down?" 

Angel nodded his head automatically before considering her statement. " Hey! How about some respect for the undead?"

Eyeing a vampire who had just managed to spear himself  through the stomach on a broken tree branch, and was now struggling to get free, Cordy grinned. "You want me to respect Impale-o Boy over there? Puh-lease." Angel just looked at her with injured-puppy eyes. Fighting back laughter, the Seer imitated his expression, pouting for added effect. In the background, the sound of fists on flesh continued, occasionally punctuated with a growl from a member of the undead party. Seeing that Angel was about to launch into full brood mode, Cordelia changed the subject hastily.

" So where's Wes tonight?" 

" Researching with Giles and the others. Giles thinks he has a lead on the prophecy." Angel replied, flinching in sympathy as Fred drove her foot into an unsuspecting vampire's crotch. His eyes caught Cordelia's for a split second, before the Seer looked away somewhat guiltily. It was well known among her friends that hiding the truth was not one of her best features – and yet, they had managed to keep her vision of Buffy from Angel so far. From the suspicious look she was getting, it looked like he was about to ask – 

" Cordelia, is there something you're not telling me?" 

Damnit. Angel was looking expectantly at her, waiting for a response, and she couldn't lie to him anymore. She opened her mouth, dreading the reaction – in the cemetery, while a fight was going on was not the setting she'd imagined. Stalling, she peered past Angel toward the battleground, only to see a fresh group of vampires arrive on the scene. Her eyes widened as the largest of all approached Fred, who had lost her stake.

"Angel...." Following her gaze, he was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn. Cordelia couldn't help sighing in relief as she picked out a vampire and dove into the fight. Crisis averted once again.

***

Gunn felt, rather than saw Angel and Cordelia enter the fight. The tension in the air increased suddenly as the vampires recognized him. Murmurs began to permeate the fighting.

"Angelus."    "Scourge of Europe."    "The Ensouled One."    "Companion of the Slayer and defeater of our kind." 

" Y'know, he's just going by Angel now." Cordelia piped up helpfully from behind a cloud of dust. The mention of Buffy seemed to fuel Angel's fury, his sword slashing viciously at the vampire who had spoken. Gunn and Cordelia exchanged a swift glance which was cut off by a salivating vampire trying to bite the Seer's neck.

Cordelia spun away from him, dodging as he tried to grab her. 

"Hey! This isn't a snack bar! Wait your turn!"

With Cordelia distracted, Gunn turned toward Fred, who had just raked long nails across the face of a particularly beefy specimen. Clutching his cheek, the vamp howled in fury, one powerful fist lashing out. Before Gunn could go to her aid, he found himself surrounded by the remainder of the original vampire group, three vampires livid at the loss of their leader.

The fight had been hard, and Gunn was tiring. These vampires, obviously smarter than your common garden variety creatures of the night, had retired from the fray to a crypt nearby to wait out the fight. They fought at full strength, although without a great deal of skill, and the odds of three on one weren't helping matters. 

A savage right hook to Gunn's jaw had him seeing stars, and his precious axe was wrenched from his grasp. All three of his friends were fighting for their lives, and even through the haze Gunn could see that Fred was quickly losing ground. Her small build meant she could duck and weave around her bulkier opponent, but her movements were slowing, allowing the vampire to connect his blows.

Drawing from his years of street fighting experience, Gunn delivered a powerful round-house kick into the gut of the smallest vampire, sending him flying into the path of the vampire who was swinging his hubcap axe experimentally. Unfortunately for the smaller vampire, the axe was outstretched at exactly the right angle to sever his head from his body. _One down_.

 Startled, the surviving vampire threw up his hands and the axe went flying, sending shards of granite from a nearby gravestone ricocheting through the air. Gunn dove toward it, the vamps close on his heels. To his relief, his fingers grasped it firmly, and he rolled quickly away from the headstone, just in time to see one of the remaining vampires crash headfirst into it. 

His stake was poised. _Two down._

In front of him, he could see Cordelia and Fred fighting back to back, neither really advancing on their opponents. Gunn knew Angel had been teaching Cordelia how to fight, and he supposed she had picked up at least something from Buffy during her years in Sunnydale. Fred; forced to defend herself in Pylea from God knows what, had some decent basic fighting skills but nothing spectacular. Neither had the strength needed to fight for extended periods of time.

 Had they had a supernatural advantage the two would have been a formidable team – but, like Gunn, they were only human, and therefore had to do the best they could with what they had. For now, that was simply defending their lives and protecting each other until they had an opportunity to kill.

He focused his attention on the remaining vampire, who appeared older and more experienced than his companions. He also liked the sound of his own rasping voice.

" The seal has been broken. A great power will be unleashed  upon the land. Mortals will suffer and die, and we shall be crowned the superior race for all eternity. The Dark Lord is coming, and you shall bow down before him and call him your Master…."

Gunn held up a hand. "Y'know what? As much as I like havin' your spit spray all over me, I got other stuff to do. Can we just fight now?"

The vampire growled, and began moving. Circling each other, Gunn noticed a peculiar amulet hanging from a heavy chain around the vampire's neck. It was a dark metal symbol of some kind, with a faint greenish sheen. Squinting in the darkness even as he cursed cemeteries for not having better lighting, Gunn could faintly make out a snake, and some kind of…skull?

"Nice bauble you got there. Where'd you get it, the city dump?"

Obviously offended, the vamp sprang toward Gunn, a cold fist catching him on the side of the head. Blinking, Gunn's vision cleared in time to see a grimy boot heading straight for his face. Not wanting his nose knocked through the back of his head, he ducked, feeling the edge of the boot graze across the top of his head. Before the vampire could react, Gunn clamped his hands around the still-swinging leg and pushed up with all his might.

A roar echoed among the trees as the vamp spun heels over head in mid air, landing with a bone-rattling thud on the ground. He lay still. Gunn hesitated to slice through his neck, instead ripping the amulet and chain from the unconscious vampire's neck and fastening cold hands securely behind his back. 

Rising stiffly, he looked up to see his three friends watching him silently. Cordelia and Fred were either side of Angel, who appeared to be holding them upright. All three were smeared with blood and covered in vamp dust. Gunn supposed he didn't look much better. He nudged the vampire's body with his boot.

" Lets see if we can get some answers to our questions, *my* way."

**************************************************************************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

Inside Dumbledore's office, there was plenty to gawk at. 

The room seemed immeasurably cluttered, and yet there was the sense that each object had its rightful place. Mysterious objects of all shapes and sizes buzzed and whirred, and every now and then one would emit a high-pitched whistle. 

Fawkes the phoenix perched in his usual place, keeping a watchful eye over the room and occasionally shedding  red and gold feathers that floated lazily to the floor. 

Faint whispers could be heard from the portraits hanging on the wall, past Headmasters discussing everything from the weather to the current price of dragon eggs on the Chinese black-market. 

With all the commotion around him, Dumbledore could have easily been distracted from his task. Fortunately, spending decades as the occupant of the office had much improved his concentration skills. Never once had he considered moving anything to another room.

Deep in thought, the Headmaster sat at his desk, the Pensieve beside him a whirl of silver liquid. Occasionally his wand would go to his temple and another silvery strand would be added to the glimmering mass. Beside him, Fawkes tucked his head securely under his wing, preparing for sleep. Dumbledore let the final strand drop from his wand and with a gentle flick the Pensieve returned to its place against the wall. Without looking up from his desk, he spoke, his voice resonating through the room.

"Something on your mind, Severus? Have a seat."

From the doorway, Snape stiffened in surprise, then entered. A squashy armchair appeared in front of the Headmasters desk, and Snape settled into it rather awkwardly, sinking into the overstuffed cushions. Briefly, he wondered how he would extract himself from it, before his mind returned to the issues at hand. Dumbledore beat him to it.

" You're here about Miss Asher." It was more a statement than a question – Snape was well aware of Dumbledore's perceptive nature.

" Among other things, Albus." There was a comfortable silence in the room for a beat, before he continued. " I have been observing her for some time since her arrival at Hogwarts, and it strikes me that she is far more than she appears. For a student her size, she is remarkably strong. She also possesses fighting skills far more advanced than any of the Magical Combat League; and within two days of the Boggart attack, her injuries – which were rather severe – had healed entirely."

A smile creased Dumbledore's wise face. " Something for which we are all thankful, yes? Certainly Miss Asher would agree that these skills are quite useful, even if she does not yet know what they truly mean. Is there anything more that you have noticed?"

Indecision fluttered across Snape's face, before he spoke again in a halting voice. 

" From the moment she entered my classroom, I could sense a great deal of power within her, unlike any I have seen in a Hogwarts student. The other students, even the most powerful, pale in comparison. Yet their power is different in some way. There was something within Miss Asher that I…"

Dumbledore fixed his eyes on Snape's. " That you recognized, and perhaps identified with. Severus, you saw dark power within Lily, did you not?"

" There is immense darkness within her, yes. It is something that she seems completely unaware of – almost as though it has been pushed into submission by another force. The puzzling thing is that her power splits into two distinct parts. One is enshrined in her very heart and soul, is a large part of who she is. The other I believe is new. It is similar to that of wizarding folk, but at the same time slightly different. Strangely, she was not born with either of these powers – they were merely given to her. Combined, they are a force to be reckoned with." 

The Headmasters gaze was unwavering, and slightly disconcerting. Snape had to resist the urge to look anywhere but into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes.

"You came here tonight to ask whether Miss Asher is a danger to our school, Severus. You are an excellent judge of character, and so the question I ask you is, what do you believe?"

There was a pause as Snape appeared to consider this, although he already knew the answer. Finally, he spoke.

"She is not dangerous. Not at present. But for someone so young to have so much dark power, and to be untrained – she would make a formidable enemy should Voldemort learn of her presence." Something suddenly occurred to him. " You indicated at the staff meeting that she was in need of our protection. Even then, you sensed it within her. Yet you did not think to warn the staff?"

" I have known since the moment she was found that she could be in great danger. I trust my staff unquestionably, Severus, but there are some things they do not need to know. Lily herself is unaware of her destiny at present, and you cannot deny that my telling the staff would have made her situation even more difficult for her to handle."

"So you thought it best to allow someone with her power to remain among the students, when she has no knowledge that it exists, and furthermore no control? Albus - "

Dumbledore raised a hand, effectively silencing Snape's protests. His voice was calm. 

" The night of the Boggart attack," Snape flinched at the memory, but the Headmaster continued, " did you notice anything…change…when Miss Asher began to defend herself?"

Unsure of where this was leading, Snape answered slowly, deep in thought. " At first, her – I will call it wizarding power – was dominant, then as the skill with which she fought increased…" He looked at Dumbledore with widened eyes. " The other power seemed to take over."

The Headmaster looked as though all his birthdays had come at once, his eyes twinkling. "Then it is safe to assume Miss Asher does indeed know how to use her power – she is just unaware that she *has* it. Which, unfortunately, is something she will have to learn for herself – provided Miss Granger does not get there first."

" Albus, this does not change the fact that - "

" Miss Asher is a Slayer." Snape blinked, mouth gaping. Chuckling, Dumbledore continued. " Severus, I advise you close your mouth, this room does tend to attract small flying creatures and swallowing one would not do much for your health. Yes, you heard correctly. Frankly, I am surprised that no-one save myself has figured it out yet."

Silence. Snape seemed incapable of forming a sentence. Of all the things he'd considered, that was the last thing he'd expected. 

"B-but Slayers are a myth."

"In the wizarding world, yes. There has not been a Slayer capable of doing magic for over a thousand years. The Slayer – essence, if you like – has a tendency to choose Muggles for it's own reasons, which the wizarding community saw as a great insult at the time. As a result, the legend of the Slayer has become that – a legend. Until now. Severus, despite what you have read; the legend is all too real, and currently asleep in Gryffindor house."

Even in his flustered state, Snape couldn't help but scowl at the mention of Gryffindor. If the Headmaster noticed, he chose to ignore it.

" It is said that the origin of the Slayer essence stems from a dark power – but the Slayer herself is a force fighting _*against*_ evil. She is trained from the moment she is called to maintain the balance and protect the innocent. It does not matter where her power comes from, but how she uses it. In this case, Miss Asher has spent a measurable part of her former life fighting against evil – and even now when she cannot remember having that power, she can still access it when the need arises."

Suddenly, Snape thought back to the fight with the Boggart. The moment Lily had begun fighting, her Slayer power had flourished, becoming more prominent as the fight progressed. She had seen the Boggart as a threat, and as such her untapped power had reacted accordingly to protect whatever was necessary. New understanding dawned in his eyes, closely followed by confusion.

" Can we not just tell her that she is this Slayer?" 

Dumbledore's reply was instantaneous. " I believe there is a reason why she was sent to Hogwarts, and part of that reason is that she was slowly losing herself - losing sight of what it means to live, to fight for a cause rather than fighting because one is required to. Losing her spark, as one might say. Would you deny her the chance of regaining that spark in order to feel more secure? Trust me when I say I would not allow her to remain if there were any chance of her becoming dangerous."

Snape nodded slowly, trying to process what he had just been told.

" I don't need to remind you that this must be kept quiet from everyone – staff and students alike. When she is ready, she will remember."

There was a pause as Dumbledore seemed to search for words.

"Now, Severus, about this Death Eater issue…."

**************************************************************************************************************************

All the things weighing me down inside are gone. The doubt, the pain, the hopelessness. The need to be wanted, to be trusted. To be loved.

I don't need that stuff now, cos I got Him. Surrogate father number two. He's not like the Mayor – like Dick – and I don't want him to be. 

Dick had this killer smile that made you want to trust him right away. He was the kind of father that all the Boston kids wanted, and no-one ever got. The rich kids had their lawyer daddies, the kids in between had their sugar daddies, and us? We had our unemployed, blind-drunk-by-nine-AM daddies. 

Better still, none at all.

Back in junior high, we had this teacher – I think her name was Gladys - who said we were flowers waitin' to open at the first sign of the sun, share all our beauty with the rest of the world. 

She lasted a whole week before she got packed off to some fancy private school. Gotta love the public school system – she wasn't even supposed to teach us in the first place. Another screw-up in a queue of failures that stretched longer than the line at the local bar on a Tuesday afternoon. 

After that, classes and homework and all that junk kinda lost their appeal, y'know? I still went, if only to avoid the old bag at the truancy office, but I kept hearing those words, remembering how we felt for that instant – like suddenly the smog had cleared and we could see the stars. 

Remembering walking through that door the next day thinking I could do whatever I wanted to with my life….and seeing some nasty, grey-haired fossil writing grammar rules on the board like we were five again. 

I'm getting off track. Things get all cloudy in my head these days –  lots of new stuff. 

Dick had his faults. The wicked freaky germ thing, his zero tolerance for leather and cigarettes and piercing *_anywhere_*. His choice of ties. The fact that his major career goal was to become a big honkin' demon and munch on the entire population of Sunnydale.

Despite all this, I think I loved him. I know he loved me. 

There was this one time - he'd sent me out to kill a Vortach demon that was dripping slime all over the 'Dale Civic Centre. I got back real late, covered in goop, and he was still in his office - plastic spread on the floor for easy clean up - waiting to hand me a towel. He said it then. 

"Faith, sometimes I just love you."

I swear, the rush that went through my body – un-frickin-believable. Made me feel like I *_mattered_* to somebody for the first time in forever. 

That was then. 

With Dick, it was like the world outside kinda dimmed. Everything I saw, everything I did – it was all still there in my head. 

Meeting Tom made everything disappear. Before Tom, there was pain, and hunger, and torture. Someone in a freaky black cloak told me that Tom saved me – kicked the ass of whoever had me, and brought me here – the Manor.

This guy who works for Tom is letting me crash here. Didn't catch his name, but he has these icy grey-blue eyes, and this is his house – no, mansion. The first day, I slept, they said. Recovering from whatever those bastards did to me in the cell. 

Ice Eyes has a wife – I think he called her Narky. When I was up and out, wandering the halls, I saw her in the library. Her eyes are blue, and equally as unreadable as her hubby's.

That night was the only night I got to eat in their big dining hall. Narky sat at the other end of an incredibly long table, so far away I was tempted to yodel down at her. I'm not great with table manners. I don't see the point in eating with four different forks when one works just fine.

 I guess I did something wrong, cos Ice Eyes brings me my meals himself now. He said it's for the same reason he locks the doors to my wing – in case the people who captured me try to come back. I feel safe here. I don't want to leave.

Something in me is all edgy – maybe because of the mini-demons with big bat ears running around. I'm not allowed to kill them, Ice Eyes says. 

It *_is_* kinda trippy the way they do everything I say though. There are two that Ice Eyes said are *_mine_*. Nobody ever let me have a pet before, not even a fish, let alone a  mini-demon who can talk and float stuff and disappear. 

Tom comes a lot, appears out of nowhere as if by magic. There must be a secret door somewhere. He tells me how well I'm doing. Doing what? All I do is sit around all day, and sleep all night. 

Barely even that. I don't think I've been sleeping well lately – I always wake up more tired than I started. Tom says it will pass, it's a side effect of something the bad guys were giving me. If I ever find those rat-bastards, I swear I'll… I dunno. 

Now that I'm safe, and protected, and loved, I have all I'll ever need. Who needs the outside world? They're the ones that dragged me down. Didn't trust me. But I gotta let go of that.

I can't help thinking about Gladys, standing in front of a class of bored fourteen year olds, so eager to make us see that we could *_be*_ someone. Kinda like the movie – can't remember the name - with Whoopi Goldberg as a nun, except without the singing. Makes me hum off-key just thinking about it.

See, what she didn't realize was that there *_was_* no chance for sunshine. We all had our own little clouds around us that blocked out the sun. Our flowers never even got a chance to poke their heads out from the concrete and rubbish – we were doomed before we had begun.

Jeez, I'm waxing all poetic. 

This life, the one I got now, is all that matters. Tom's nothing like Dick – as far as I can tell he has no world domination intentions, for a start. He's *_better._*

With Tom to guide me I just know I'm gonna blossom.

**************************************************************************************************************************

A/N: Faith muse, stay down! *grin*

 I'm just going with the flow here really. Did it work? As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and flames are bad karma that will come back and bite you in the ass. 

Ciao!


	13. Prophecies, Enemies, Questions

A/N: Thanks to all those who have taken the time to email or review. However, there is one exception to the rule that I think should be mentioned before we go on. 

    _To the coward who not only left a disgusting flame under the guise of 'honest opinions', but didn't leave an email address:   I find it hard to take your opinions seriously when you lack the ability to spell 'Buffy' properly._

_    Furthermore, if you really have that big a problem with the story, leave your email address next time. I *dare* you. You want to take me on? At least give me the opportunity to respond in a way other than in authors notes. Also, it appears you are rather outnumbered, considering the amount of positive feedback I've had so far._

_In future, remove head from sphincter, *then* review._

Apologies  to everyone else that I even had to *put* this here. 99.9% of my reviewers have been utterly brilliant, and it is very much appreciated. : )

Any subsequent flames will be publicly mocked in the forums, then used to crispy-fry vampires and other assorted demons. Possibly marshmallows. Because I too can be callous and strange.

*********************************************************************  

**Chapter 13: Prophecies, Enemies, Questions.**

_#Hogwarts#_

Breakfast at Hogwarts was never a subdued affair, and this morning was no different. The four house tables were filled with chattering students, a sea of house colors drifting on a horizon of black, white and grey. The ceiling of the Great Hall shone robin's egg blue, the magically created sunshine invading every corner and casting out the dark shadows.

As always, Draco Malfoy could be seen holding court at the Slytherin table. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson was chattering – no, screeching – in his ear, occasionally pressing her body to his in what he assumed was an attempt at seduction. A month ago, Draco would have been only too happy to play along, to act interested in Pansy's vapid gossip – perhaps even to allow her to come to his private room at night. 

Now, his heart was elsewhere – and his eyes kept scanning the Gryffindor table for a familiar blonde head, conspicuously absent. He wasn't the only one.

From the staff table, Snape kept a watchful eye on the doors, waiting for Lily Asher – the Slayer – to join Potter and his equally insufferable friends at the Gryffindor table. Each time the heavy doors swung open, he looked up in what he hoped was his usual fear-inducing manner. 

At the Gryffindor table, Ron was alternating between staring at Snape, and cramming more food than was humanely possible into his mouth. Ginny, Harry and Hermione were looking on with horrified fascination. 

" Mmphat's upht wif Schnape?" Ron mumbled, devouring a whole sausage in one gulp. The others just stared blankly. Swigging from a goblet of pumpkin juice, Ron tried again.

" What's up with Snape? He looks like he sat on his wand by mistake. And might I add how not brilliant it is to see him? We've got double bloody Potions first thing! Pass the eggs, Gin."

Ginny grinned as Ron shoveled scrambled eggs onto his plate. Anyone would think her brother didn't get fed at home, the way he ate. Before anyone could answer, Ron had turned his attention back to his breakfast.

Harry shot a quick glance at the doors, then turned to Hermione, who was looking a little green.

" I thought you said Lily was right behind you when you came down?" Hermione forced her eyes away from Ron, focusing on Harry instead. 

" I think she wanted to finish that essay for Snape before class – last I saw she was headed for the library. Ron, you'll be sick if you keep eating like that!"

Ginny leant across Harry, tucking her hair behind her ears. " It works better if you just ignore him. He'll either stop eating, or throw up. My bet's on option B."

There was the audible sound of a fork clattering to the floor: Ron gulped, a horrified look on his face. " Snape? Essay? What essay?"

It was times like these that Hermione wanted to roll her eyes in frustration. So she did. 

" Two feet on the properties and uses of bicorn powder in healing potions – remember? You didn't forget again!"

Ron had. "Er…possibly. Hermione, you've done it, right? So if you let me just look at it, for reference…"

Harry and Ginny watched as the two began a familiar argument; Ron pleading, Hermione telling him he'd never learn if she did all his work for him. Unsurprisingly, Hermione eventually pulled her finished essay from her bag and handed it to Ron, who forgot his breakfast and rushed from the Great Hall. 

As the doors began to close, Harry was relieved to see Lily slip in silently through the gap and head toward the group, her robes and bag slung over one shoulder, and what appeared to be a newly-completed essay in her hand. He didn't notice the silver eyes that followed the petite Gryffindor as she dumped her things unceremoniously on the floor and sat opposite him, eyes lighting up in a smile.

" Hey guys…what's up with Ron? Being all procrastinate-y again? He looked kinda green."

Despite her light tone, Harry couldn't help but notice the faint circles under her eyes. He could feel Snape's eyes on them from the staff table – the greasy git was probably looking for another excuse to take points from Gryffindor. For what – chewing with their mouths open?

"Harry?" 

Jolting back to reality, Harry realized he'd been staring at Lily – again. Well, if she *_insisted_* on wearing her tie loose and her shirt half open under her school jumper….oh. Staring. Harry felt a flush creep up his neck.

Luckily for him, Lily just grinned. " Is there musty book dust in my hair?"

From somewhere in the school, a bell rang signifying the start of morning classes, and saving Harry from his embarrassment. He moved with the others as they pulled on their robes and headed toward Snape's classroom, Ginny disappearing with a group of fifth years.

Harry only just had time to slide into his seat before Ron appeared, clutching a parchment filled with untidy scrawl and panting breathlessly. Close on his heels was Snape, sweeping into the room like an overgrown bat and eyeing the class in his usual poisonous manner.

Without a word, Snape flicked his wand and yet another list of ingredients appeared on the board. 

"There will be no talking. Miss Granger, if you attempt to help Mister Longbottom with *_anything*_, I shall deduct fifty points from your house. Each." Harry felt Lily stiffen beside him. Thankfully, Snape ignored them, his eyes on the pile of essays in front of him. 

"You may begin."

***

Was it her imagination, or was Snape watching her very closely? Lily measured out mandrake root carefully, trying to ignore the Professor. Since the Boggart incident, Snape had barely glanced her way. This new eagle-eye made her skin prickle.

Worse, he wasn't the only one. Maybe the staring was contagious – across the room, Malfoy was practically boring holes in her with those silver eyes. Altogether, she was thoroughly wigged. Biting back the urge to deck the stare-happy Slytherin, she continued to mix and chop, jumping when Snape finally addressed the class.

" You should have before you a rose pink mixture, faintly luminescent. Bottle the contents and bring them to me for inspection. No talking."

Lily looked down, blinking in surprise when she saw almost exactly what Professor Cranky had described. There was a low curse from Ron, who was stirring a lumpy, bright orange mess furiously. Harry's was a little better, but more bubblegum pink than rose. 

One of the Slytherins – Pansy maybe – screeched as Crabbe missed the opening of his flask, spraying his concoction everywhere. The acid green solution promptly dissolved whatever it touched. 

Including a chunk of Snape's greasy hair. 

Lily couldn't stop the snort that escaped from her mouth. The most feared Professor in the school now had a fluffy bald patch over one ear. He looked a little like Principal Snyder, emu sized bug definitely included. 

Wait – Principal who? Where had *that* come from? Lily couldn't remember who'd said it, but the voice was clearly there inside her head.

_* How about because you're a tiny, impotent Nazi with a bug up his butt the size of an emu?* _

"Miss Asher."

Said evil emu was currently glaring at her. Uh-oh. She knew that face. Had she said the Nazi thing out loud? Nobody was looking at her in the way that usually meant they needed a translation. Phew!

" Detention. Eight o'clock tonight." Crap! Snape was so mad, she could see his nose hairs flaring from across the room. Dumbledore was SO not gonna be thrilled about this. 

As long as this one didn't end up with her being speared on the wrong end of a pointy sword. Cos that was the kind of fun that's _*not*._

Once they were outside, Ron tapped her on the shoulder, glancing around to make sure Snape was out of earshot.

"What's an emu?"

Lily had to fight back the urge to groan.

*********************************************************************

_#Sunnydale#_

"Aha!"

Heads raised at Giles's exclamation as if hope had lit a match in a dark room. The deafening silence of anticipation lingered in the air, all present waiting for some explanation. When nothing came, Xander frowned.

" Was that ' aha, I've made a startling discovery; or aha, I think I've been knocked out one too many times and am bleeding from my brainstem?' For those of us who don't speak Giles, a translation would be nice."

Wesley rose to look at the page Giles was studying, his eyes scanning the lines. 

"Of course! How could we have missed this?"

"Hello? Not all of us can read in ancient languages that *_aren't_* Pig Latin. Et-gay with-hay e-thay explaining-yay?"

From the overstuffed sofa, Dawn stared at him, smirking in a way that was so entirely Buffy it made Xander's eyes sting. " You can read Pig Latin but you can't say it right? How does that work?" 

Xander reddened and quickly tried to redeem himself. " G-Man? Please explain?"

" It appears there was more to the prophecy than the Council originally thought. In the fourteenth century, an obscure order of Tibetan monks uncovered an original document in the cellars of their monastery, containing both the entire prophecy and an explanation of what each line meant."

"Kind of like Cliff's Notes, if Cliff had a ten times great grandfather who dabbled in the occult."

"Exactly, Xander, although I doubt whether this Cliff was fluent in ancient languages. Unfortunately, fire destroyed a great deal of the Order, the original prophecy included. It was only when the site was excavated last year in preparation for redevelopment that the writings of these monks were found, and archived in the British Museum's collection."

Willow bit her lip thoughtfully. " So, that's of the good right? We can just give them a call and say hey, how about lending us this really valuable bit of ancient history so we can stop an icky demonic force from ending the world, again." 

Silence.

"Or not." She turned to Giles. "Can't you call in a favor or something? Yank their strings really hard?"

Anya snorted at the choice phrasing, but thankfully didn't comment. Giles simply blinked, then sighed.

" I wish it were that simple. The archives are most likely closed to public viewing. Generally, a copy is scanned to the Museum computers, then…"

Willow interrupted, her eyes gleaming." Oh! Maybe it is that simple, Giles. If their computers are linked to a network, and one of those is linked to the Internet…" She was typing furiously as she spoke, her eyes never leaving the screen. Wes looked rather skeptical.

"Surely the Museum wouldn't leave their sensitive material in a place where the average..." There was a loud beep from Willow's laptop, and the witch grinned in delight. 

" I'm in!"

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at Wesley. " Might want to rethink that statement, Watcher-Lite." 

" I was only saying that they would surely have complicated barriers in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening."

Her eyes fixed on the screen, Willow replied absentmindedly. " They do – I gave the system a little magical nudge to speed things up." She missed the concerned look that passed between Tara and Giles. " Now, if I were a prophecy, where would I be?"

Minutes later, the printer began to spit out neatly typed sheets. Willow handed them around with a look of triumph. Wesley gave a low whistle. Giles was silent for a moment, then removed his glasses slowly.

Anya glanced reproachfully at Willow. " You couldn't have used some leftover magic to translate them for us little people?"

Willow looked as though she was about to do just that. Glancing again at Tara, Giles quickly intervened.

"That's not necessary, Willow. If you'll give me a minute, I'll be happy to translate." Giles re-read the prophecy carefully before continuing. " The first part appears to be identical to what we already know; however there are some new verses in between."

Haltingly, Giles began to read.

"_Blood of the Chosen given freely, _

_Puzzle of Dark shall be made whole_

_Revived with a gift of blood and torture_

_He shall rise to reign once more_

Then we have the new verses. Er - _Bringer of Light created unknowing_

_Sheltered by a Prophet until the,_ er…is that… _Kalvros_?

_M-matched by Defeator who is of living name_

_Each strong with that which is not their own_

_Birds of a feather bind together_

_Bringer to Defeator, both to Dark_

_Light carries Dark though Dark repels Light_

_Seven with one shall make union whole._

_Gift of the __Chosen__ cannot be returned_

_Nor matched by another whose name rings trust_

_When Isthmus appears to reign o'er above_

_Battle__ is lost in the Dell of Sun._

_Betrayer shall kill to split Light from Dark_

_Light flares and Dragonblood flows once more_

_Strength of one no match for Dark_

_Strength of many shall conquer all."_

The Scoobies and assorted hangers-on were stunned, each of them trying to make sense of what they'd just heard. In the silence that followed, a pin the size of the Empire State Building could have fallen through the roof without anyone noticing. 

It was only when six feet of furious vampire hurtled through the front doorway that anyone looked up. Behind him, Cordelia was trying tearfully to explain…something. Angel appeared in no mood to listen to reason.

" Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't CARE that you had a vision of Buffy and didn't think it important enough to TELL me? Were you EVER going to tell me?"

Wesley stood, looking as though he'd rather be captured by a demon, cut open and used for a ritual sacrifice then have to face the irate vampire. " Angel, there's really no need to be angry at Cordelia…."

He shrank back as Angel stalked toward him, eyes flashing yellow. " I suppose you were in on this too? Everybody but me knew?"

" I didn't know, Angel! Don't bite me!" Anya piped up helpfully.

Angel ignored her, watching as Wes lowered his eyes. " I-if you just let m-me explain…"

Angel growled, pulling back and punching Wes in the face. Cordelia immediately ran to Wesley's aid, glaring at Angel. 

"What the *hell* is your damage?"

At Cordelia's furious remark, Angel seemed to snap back to reality. He stared for a moment at the blood spurting from Wes's nose, then turned and disappeared into the night, almost bowling over Fred and Gunn who had deposited their unconscious hostage outside the front door. 

Anya raised her eyebrows at the vampire on the floor. She turned to Dawn.

"What is this, a charity home for those without a pulse and assorted hangers-on? You really should start charging rent around here. Extra for bleeding on the carpet."

Gunn's swollen jaw twisted in a half smile. " Oh, I reckon this one'll be earnin' his keep."

*********************************************************************

_#Malfoy Manor#_

Hidden in the ever-present shadows that lurked around her home, Narcissa stood just outside the door to Lucius's study, listening to the conversation within. The house elves had been ordered to the kitchens, forbidden to set foot in this part of the Manor. 

As for the dark-haired girl – Narcissa had not seen her since that first puzzling encounter in the dining hall. Perhaps she had moved on, been sent elsewhere to do whatever it was she was forced to. 

Forced being the operative word – even in their one brief meeting, though the girl had not spoken, Narcissa had been sure that she was being controlled against her will. That alone raised questions, for her husband did nothing without an ulterior motive. 

What then was Lucius controlling this girl for? 

A familiar voice startled Narcissa from her musing. Soft and menacing, with strangely sibilant 's' sounds – the voice of the Dark Lord. It was almost snakelike, and a cold shiver writhed up Narcissa's spine at the sound.

" And the Slayer, Lucius? How is she adjusting to her new life?"

" She remembers nothing of her night-time duties, my Lord, as you requested. She believes that she is being kept under lock and key in the North Wing for her own protection."

" Excellent. She has proved a valuable asset to our side. I trust you have continued with her treatment?"

" Naturally. Travers continues to send the necessary potions to suppress her strength somewhat, allowing us to perform magics on her. Hutchins, one of yours within the Ministry, has altered the potion a little to allow her normal level of strength to be summoned at will if Your Lordship wishes it – without rendering her immune to magic like others of her kind."

" Ah yes, such a tiresome loophole. You will arrange a meeting with Hutchins to inform him of my approval for his assistance. The Slayer is still being given this potion?"

" Certainly, my Lord. My house elves have instructions to add it to everything she eats, although they believe it is simply a strengthening solution. I deliver these meals to her myself. She appears most grateful to you for –as she calls it – saving her hide."

" Americans will insist on the slaughter of the English language."

Narcissa stood frozen as Voldemort continued speaking, thinking over what she had just heard. The Slayer – an American one at that – housed in the Manor and under the control of the Dark Lord? 

There had not been a Slayer in the wizarding world for many years – enough time to ensure that this mystical being had become no more than a myth. Of course, those in power in the Ministry at the time had been most affronted that this entity had deemed the wizarding community unworthy, and thus introduced a decree forbidding contact between wizards and the Slayer. 

One part of said decree also restricted schools such as Hogwarts from teaching students about the Slayer. However, Albus Dumbledore had often bent such orders from the Ministry, and while there had not been a teaching unit on the subject, books were available in the library. Narcissa could dimly remember stumbling across one of these in her sixth year.

If Voldemort truly had the Slayer under his control, he had gained a distinct advantage over the other side. Perhaps it was time for more direct action.

*********************************************************************

A/N: A little sneak preview of things to come….

…..Dumbledore's eyes rested on the small blonde figure slumped dejectedly in front of him. " Miss Asher – Lily – I would like nothing more than to tell you that things can only get easier from here. Unfortunately, I cannot. I can sense that you do not trust me, and that is of course justified. For the moment, though, I ask you to put that aside and simply listen."

Lily merely gazed at the aged wizard with dulled eyes. It troubled Dumbledore, but nevertheless he continued. "You have several difficult choices to make. First and foremost, can you find the strength inside to accept who you truly are – no matter the cost?"… 

Stay tuned, more of this program to follow after a short break.

*tigerlily.


	14. Calm Before the Storm

A/N: I really have no idea how detailed Cordy's visions generally are, so for plot purposes I'm taking liberties – hence the detail. It's important for later, I promise.

And you just *know* you're dying to hit the 'review' button, or send me an email at waiting_to_fly@hotmail.com. Pretty please?

One more thing – this particular chapter has a B/H pairing. It has to happen at this point coz it ties in with where I want the story to eventually go. The length and depth of this 'ship is entirely dependent on *my* thoughts, and I don't respond well to flames or demands that I change the pairings. Just so we're clear.

*********************************************************************  

**Chapter 14: Calm Before the Storm**

_#Sunnydale#_

It was times like these when Angel could feel Angelus pulsing under his skin. 

The demon was straining against its cage, begging to be let loose to sate the angry fire roaring through his lifeless body. It was this urge for violence that had driven Angel to flee the Summers house in search of something to fight – anything to quiet the screaming inside.

The rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement beat in time with his aching heart as he raced to put as much distance as possible between himself and the house. Revello Drive was filled with painful reminders of what he'd lost – no, not what he'd lost.

_What he'd walked away from years ago. _

How many times had he stood in its kitchen while Buffy ate her way through the fridge in a fit of post-Slaying hunger? How often had he slipped in her window to gather her in his arms, to tend to battle injuries - to watch over her while she slept?

Angel had left so that she could have a normal life, and in those first lonely nights in Los Angeles he had dreamt of one day returning to Sunnydale, standing in the shadows of a house with a white picket fence, watching her children grow – watching her basking in the love of someone who could give her all that he could not.

In truth, it had not only been his grief that had kept him in his room the weeks after her death, staring at the stained ceiling day after agonizing day, seeing her face in every water mark, hearing her voice with the rising of the sun.

It was the thought that, had he stayed, he could have helped her. He could have succeeded where Spike had not; been there to send Doc flying from the tower behind his childe. Taken the knife in his cold hand and bent the steel until he felt it pierce his palm. Loosened the ropes binding Dawn while Buffy fought Glory below: carried her in his arms to meet Buffy on the ground. 

He could have saved her, and instead he had locked eyes with her through a cloud of crispy-fried-Mayor smoke, drinking her in as though to pull her inside him for eternity. 

Angel had told her once that he wanted to keep her heart from being bruised or torn – to warm it with his own. Had he walked away to give her the gift of life, only to seal the wrapping on her death?

Icy rain trickled down his neck as Angel ran from everything he had been and everything he would never be. Headlights swerved, angry drivers leaning on their horns as his feet carried him across achingly familiar streets. A crumbling stone wall loomed in the distance, a barrier between the living and the dead. 

This town, *her* town, was divided by these walls – and yet they did nothing to keep the dead from wandering among the living, rising from the damp earth and making it their playground. Which side did he truly belong to?

Angel vaulted the wall in a single leap, stone crumbling under his feet and sending him sprawling ungracefully across the spongy ground drenched thickly with the smell of newly cut flowers; of promise; of rebirth. 

How ironic that even in a place devoted to death, the grass continued to flourish, regardless of how often it was stripped bare to pave the way for yet another monument of a life stolen.

He had read countless books, was familiar with Darwin and his theories. Survival of the fittest. Those who can not adapt will die, and be replaced by those who can. Climbing to his feet, Angel felt death press in on him from every side, the cloying sweetness of decay steaming from the earth. 

Death was in his heart, his fists, his fangs. It was the terrier constantly nipping at his heels, following his every move. Angelus had drained a dog once, a child's pet, luring it toward him with false promises of food and affection, snapping its scruffy neck and drinking it dry. He had left the pitiful ball of fur where the small girl could find it, watched her clutch it to her chest and sob as though her heart had been torn out. 

Five minutes later, it was pulsing in his hand.

Angel felt his soul roar in defiance, against whoever it was that held the strings, controlled fate and destiny and the other things he had come to hate. Amid the rain, he imagined he could see a flash of golden blonde; smell vanilla and….

Cigarette smoke and damp leather?

"Spike."

His childe did not speak for a moment, simply took a deep drag on his cigarette and fixed his eyes on the ground. Flicking the spent butt into the rain, he surveyed Angel's sodden clothing, his dripping hair. Rising from his sheltered spot under the entrance of a lichen-covered crypt, Spike tilted his head slightly.

" Only a wanker would go jogging in this rain. C'mon."

Angel followed blindly, not knowing where Spike was leading him and not particularly caring. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Occasionally Spike glanced over his shoulder, duster flaring as he weaved through the headstones. Checking to make sure that yes, his sire was still following him like a lost puppy. He turned abruptly toward one of the larger crypts, kicking the door open and lighting another cigarette.

" Home sweet home."

Angel stood in the doorway, dazed and dripping. Spike frowned and blew acrid smoke directly into his sire's face.

"Bloody hell Peaches, get your great lump of an arse inside and shut the damn door. You're melting hair gel all over my rug."

*********************************************************************

_#Meanwhile, at the Summers' house#_

There was blood on the rug. 

Not much, granted – only a few spatters of ruby red staining the covering. It wasn't the first time something had been soiled or damaged; and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Lamps, tables, windows – even the front door had fallen victim to eager demons in search of the Slayer. 

Dawn could recite twenty-three different ways of removing demon gore from fabric, and yet she couldn't tear her gaze from the nickel-sized drops of human blood.

Wesley's blood. 

Giles and the others had left her alone in the living room while they 'discussed the prophecy' in the kitchen, as though she was five and not almost fifteen. 

Even from her place on the couch she could hear every word. There hadn't been a door for as long as she could remember – if ever - and nobody seemed to care how loud they talked. 

" We assumed id didn't haf any meaning; thad the Powers thad Be bade a bistake of sub kind. After all, Cordelia usually gets bessages about people who are… in need of savig."

Definitely Wesley, talking through his swollen nose. So, they were talking about Buffy, and not the prophecy after all. Dawn bit her lip until she could taste salty blood, the sharp pain bringing tears to her eyes. What was Willow saying?

" Cordy, you said the Buffy in your vision looked different. What did you mean?"

" It was like being back in high school – the chunky highlights era. You know, just before Angel went all grr and Buffy sent him to Hell."

Cordelia's voice was muffled by a faint hissing sound. Was it the kettle? Despite herself, Dawn heard her sister's voice echo in her head, smirking at Giles.

_* Your predictably British answer to the new beastie in town? Tea and scones. Me, I'd choose Option B - a big shiny sword and some quality severing of limbs.*_

One of the droplets seemed to transform into a crude smile, mocking her. Dawn blinked hard; opened her eyes to see normal round-shaped drops. In the kitchen, china clattered as tea was made. Giles was asking Cordelia to explain the vision fully, his voice suddenly guarded. 

Dawn knew that tone – it echoed with the steely resolve of someone preparing themselves for something they had no wish to hear. The Powers had made a mistake, sent Cordelia a cruel reminder of all that they had lost, and now the gauze had been ripped painfully from a wound that had only just begun to heal.

Under Dawn's clothing, the twin scars on her abdomen began to throb in time with the frantic beating of her heart. The blood that still pumped through her veins had torn down the walls between dimensions, the catalyst in a chain reaction of hurt that seemed stuck on continuous replay. 

Dawn was the Key, and because of the Key, the Slayer was dead. Because of Dawn, Buffy was dead. 

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Dawn edged closer to the doorway until she was crouched just out of sight of the kitchen. Cordelia had explained before that she not only saw the visions, she felt them. Dawn wondered what it was like to feel anything but numb. 

She braced herself against the wall to listen, Cordelia's description drawing her in slowly…

***

_She was Buffy, and Buffy was crashing through the undergrowth of an unnamed forest, running from something – no, someone. More than one someone, judging from the noise behind her. _

_How many, and what species eluded her – the finer details Slayer hearing usually provided were muffled by the sound of her heart pounding furiously in her ears. _

_There was a familiar ache in her chest – one, maybe two ribs broken. She could feel the jagged edges grating with each gasping breath, every step bringing only more pain. One arm flapped uselessly against her body, her shoulder a bloody and mangled mess._

_How long had she been running? It seemed like forever. No matter how far or how fast she ran, her pursuers were on her heels, and gaining every minute. _

_It was bitterly cold, the kind that sinks deep into your bones and makes your very soul shiver. She couldn't tell whether it was day or night – the darkness of the forest stretched as far as she could see, thick tree trunks leading to a dense layer of branches that blocked the sky from view._

_She felt the painful sting of a low branch whipping across her face, blinding her for one terrifying moment. The pounding of her feet was broken as she stumbled sightlessly over rocks and roots, her good hand stretched out in front in an attempt to protect herself. The red haze cleared almost without her noticing, all her energy focused on running._

_One foot in front of the other.__ Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't let them catch you. Breathe in. Lead them away. Breathe out. Step. Step. Step step stepstepstepstep. _

_She was sure there were others in the forest, silent eyes watching her from the thick undergrowth. Whether they were friend or foe, they acted as spectators in this endless race for her life, not appearing, not helping. The air was thick with mystical energy, writhing and twisting around her as she gave up hope of being stealthy and crashed through the bushes with abandon._

_ The Slayer in her refused to sob with exhaustion, drove her to the point of breaking and then demanded that little bit extra. The footsteps behind her were closing in, getting faster._

_To her horror, she realized it was not they who were speeding up, but she who was slowing down. There was nowhere to hide, and she didn't know where she was running to. Behind her, there was a triumphant cry as though they had only just noticed this, and the air was suddenly filled with shouts and streaks of light, speeding around her. Magic?_

_Duck, weave. Breathe in. If they catch you, you die. Breathe out. _

_A few of the streaks collided with her stumbling form, increasing the previously only-just-bearable pain to agony that made her breath catch in her throat. Not caring who heard her, she gave in and began to sob, each gasping breath harder to draw. _

_There was a terrible ripping sound as trees were uprooted and flung into her path by an unseen force. In desperation, she chanced a glance behind her, tearing her eyes from the faint path ahead only for a split second._

_It was enough. A felled tree loomed ahead and she stumbled and fell hard on her injured shoulder, dirt and leaves mixing with sticky blood, grinding into the open wound. White spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried desperately to get up and found she no longer had the strength. _

_She was crawling now, fingernails split and bleeding as her hands clawed the dirt, inching toward a particularly thick shrub that would at least provide some cover from whatever was out there. She curled into a tight ball amongst the prickly leaves, tears of pain streaming from her eyes as thorns embedded themselves in her exposed skin. _

_Too late, she realized her mistake. A bloody trail stretched from the tree to her hiding place, drag marks clearly visible to someone with even the poorest eyesight. Bile rose in her throat as her pursuers leapt over the log nimbly and turned toward her, cruel eyes seeking her out within seconds._

_There was a high, cold laugh. She was dragged from the bush by her hair, her aching body banging against every possible hard object on the muddy forest floor. Unable to do anything but fight for consciousness, she bit back her sobs. _

_She refused to let these –things- think that she was beaten._

_"Little, little girl.__ So fragile, so broken. Why are you here, fighting a war that is not your own?"_

_Harsh orange light, and pain exploded throughout her entire body, shaking her slight form with tremors no human could withstand for long. From far away, the same hissing voice rose in triumph._

_" You__ think you know…what you are…what's to come…you haven't even begun."_

_The world faded to black._

***

"Dawn? Dawn honey, what's wrong?"

Warm hands were patting her face gently, trying to wake her up. Dawn opened her eyes a tiny crack and furtively peered up at the worried faces of the entire Scooby gang, extended style. 

Even Fred had appeared to see what the fuss was all about – though she had that scared-rabbit look that suggested she'd really rather be somewhere else. Grilling captive vampires for information in the Summers' basement with her potential honey, perhaps.

They hadn't noticed that she was awake, and that was just fine by the former Key. There was something niggling at the back of her mind – something she needed to remember. Yet every time she tried to search her mind, the elusive thought wormed further and further out of her grasp.

As if it didn't want to be found.

Dimly, she heard one pair of footsteps leave the group that was apparently still staring at her. She could feel her skin crawling under the scrutiny of so many eyes as she mentally flicked past hundreds of monk-created memories, searching for… 

"OH!!"

The footsteps had returned, and with them came a shock of cold water, drenching her face and hair. Dawn bolted upright, her eyes snapping open with a force that sent droplets of water flying every which way. She ignored the surprised cries of Buffy's friends as the memory she had been searching for leaped into the forefront of her mind with a ferocity that left her breathless.

_* Orange light, and pain, and that voice…Buffy, bleeding and broken – darkness*_

To the alarm of everyone in the room, Dawn began to thrash, choking and sobbing until it seemed her body would shatter.

The Scoobies tried everything they could think of – magic, soothing words, brute force, more cold water, ropes… Nothing worked.

Giles had just picked up the phone to call an ambulance when Dawn took a deep breath and lay still. There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone present.

Then Dawn began to scream.

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

The Gryffindor common room was unusually full for a Saturday, owing to the fact that the weather had turned vicious almost overnight. Outside their window, the wind was positively howling, rain assaulting the earth as though it had committed a terrible crime. 

Much to the dismay of the students, Dumbledore had announced that nobody was to set foot outside the castle until further notice was given. Thus, the Gryffindors were slowly going stir-crazy.

" No Quidditch practice! I'll die! By the time this clears up, I'll have forgotten how to fly, they'll kick me off the team, and…"

Lily and Hermione looked up from their books, grinning at Ron's complaining. The foursome were sitting in their usual chairs near the fireplace, hot mugs of cocoa at their sides. Lily speared a marshmallow on the end of a pronged fork and poked it into the fire to toast.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said if you ate one more thing, you'd explode." 

Lily looked at her friend as if she were crazy. " Who, me? There's always room for marshmallow goodness. Did I mention lately how much I love Dobby for the snacks?" Hermione looked as though she was going to start up about S.P.E.W, so Lily hurriedly changed the subject. 

"Plus, I'm really sick of being research-gal. We've read about a hundred books and still no Watcher references." 

Pulling the gooey sweet from the fork, Lily popped it whole into her mouth, licking her fingers and looking thoughtful. Beside Hermione, Ron continued to moan.

" By the time this blasted rain stops, I'll be like a first-year on a broomstick! I'll…"

Harry leaned past Lily to interrupt. " Ron, you won't get kicked off the team."

"Oh yeah? How come you're so sure?"

" Er… possibly because you're Quidditch Captain? Unless you're planning to kick yourself off, of course. In which case, I'll have to take over from you and you know what time of year it is…"

Ron brightened considerably for a moment before frowning in confusion. "Er… did I miss someone's birthday?" His face cleared in recognition. " Oh yeah – it's almost grave danger season again!"

Hermione's grin widened. " At least we know what to get Harry for Christmas," she announced to a giggling Lily, " one of those novelty mugs with 'Mortal Peril Free For *_insert number of days_* Now' written on it." 

Harry scowled half-heartedly at his friends, trying to keep a straight face. " Well, I'm glad to hear you think it's just *so* funny that I'm a big lightning rod for danger!" His dancing green eyes betrayed his sarcasm. Lily moved swiftly, perching on the arm of his chair, legs stretched casually across his lap. She smirked playfully at him.

"Big lightning rod, eh?" 

Harry assumed a cowboy-style leer he'd seen done on one of Dudley's favorite tv shows, pulling her down so she was seated on his lap. He attempted to imitate an exaggerated Texan drawl, failing miserably.

"Tha's right lil missy, big lightnin' rod is what I 'ave. What ya'll gonna do 'bout it?"

Lily was laughing so hard she couldn't speak. On impulse, she leaned over and planted a big kiss on his cheek. Taken by surprise, Harry gaped at her for a split-second before he retaliated with an equally large kiss on her own rosy cheek. Hazel and emerald locked as the air around them seemed to thicken.

"Ahem!" Ron cleared his throat meaningfully, waving a rolled piece of parchment in his hand. Lily swiveled around to look at Ron, not making any attempt to move back to her own chair.

 "Pig just dropped this off – letter from Fred and George. Dunno how he can fly in this weather what with…" He broke off, obviously embarrassed to have interrupted. "Er… I can read it later, if you want."

Lily shifted unconsciously in Harry's lap, sending a rush of heat to his face and prompting certain – stirrings- below. Harry hoped his voice sounded normal as he thought frantically of cold showers and other decidedly unsexy things.

" Er…that's okay. Read it now if you like."

Eager to make up for his mistake, Ron unfurled the soggy parchment covering the letter and read quickly.

*

_Ronniekins__,_

_                   Just thought we'd owl about the holidays – Mum's got this idea to invite the whole Weasley clan around for Christmas dinner (all forty-nine of them, including Uncle Fidus – you remember, the one who hexed the pudding the last time). Must be the Christmas spirit, coming a whole month early. We think she's off her rocker, but she insisted that you and Gin come home for the occasion. _

_Of course, Hermione and __Harry__ are welcome too_. (At this Ron paused, glancing at Lily's downcast face) _Mum's invited Sirius and Lupin, or sent the owls at least – no reply from Sirius yet, Dad says he's in __America__ on Ministry business. Lupin's here now, helping Dad with something top-secret for Dumbledore (tell you all about it when you get here). _

_Send Pig with your reply as soon as possible, and give our love to Malfoy and Snape (a good holiday hex ought to do brilliantly)._

_Gred__ and Forge_

*

The four Gryffindors were silent as Ron rolled up the letter and stuffed it in a pocket. Hermione turned to Lily, her eyes troubled. " I'm sure they meant to invite you too, it probably just slipped their mind."

Ron jumped in quickly, eager to smooth things over. " 'Mione's right, I'll just write to Mum and ask her to…"

Lily rose from Harry's lap, a tight smile on her face. Her voice was just a little too bright when she answered, eyes shining with what looked horribly like disappointment. 

" It's okay, you guys go – I'm sure some of the others will be here for the holidays too. The quiet might be of the good: y'know, I can be study-girl and all."

Harry wasn't fooled. He reached for Lily's  hand, but she shook him off roughly. 

" There's this book I need from the library, could break open the whole Watcher thing. See you at dinner." Before the Trio could react, she had disappeared out the portrait hole. Hermione looked as though she wanted to follow, but Harry shook his head slightly. Ron sank into his chair, tossing the letter into the flames.

With a squeal, two of the second years recoiled from the window as a sodden shape collided with the glass. Cautiously, they opened the window a crack, and another owl flopped onto the floor, a letter clutched in its beak. Ron turned, rising when he recognized the ball of feathers as Errol, the Weasley family owl. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand as Ron set the unconscious Errol near the fire to dry out, ripping open the letter. His eyes brightened considerably.

" This one's from Mum – only a note really."

*

_Ron – Please let your friend Lily know that she is more than welcome to join us at Christmas, and apologize for Fred and George's mistake in leaving her out. Hope everyone is well (and if I hear that Draco Malfoy has been hexed at all you will be scrubbing dishes the Muggle way for the remainder of your life.) – Mum._

*

"Harry!"

Harry turned from Ron to see Dennis Creevey's anxious face. Dennis rushed on before Harry could speak. " Lily – she's sitting outside in the corridor behind one of the suits of armor…I think she's crying!"

Silently, Harry thanked Merlin that Dennis had had the sense to keep his voice down – the last thing they needed was half of Gryffindor rushing out to see what the problem was. He smiled gratefully at Dennis before leaving the common room, heading toward the suit of armor. 

Lily was almost hidden in the corner, knees drawn to her chest. Having learnt the hard way what happened when she was startled (he had once been flipped onto his back for sneaking up on her), Harry approached quietly, stopping a few feet away. 

"Lils?"

He didn't wait for her response, closing the gap between them and settling himself on the cold floor next to her. Lily's blonde hair hid her face from view. Harry waited patiently. At last, she scrubbed her face with her hands and looked at him. He held out Mrs Weasley's letter, watching her closely as she read it. The corridor was silent for a long time.

"You must think I'm being stupid, crying 'cos I didn't get invited to a party."

Unearthing a tissue from his pocket, he handed it to her. She managed a watery smile which was followed by a slight shiver, her thin tank top doing little to protect her against the cold. Harry pulled his jumper over his head and handed it to her, smiling when he saw how it engulfed her slight frame.

"Better?" Lily nodded. Harry thought for a moment about what she had said, then  turned her face to his.

" This is about more than the party, isn't it." A tiny nod. "Lily Asher, you are many things – but stupid isn't one of them. I've heard that's something that comes naturally – take a look at Malfoy's goons for example."

This time her smile was genuine. Harry stretched an arm around her shoulders gently, as if she was likely to shatter. " Ron's probably told you how hopeless I am at talking to girls, so what if we skip the small talk and go for Galleons? Want to give me the four-one-one?"

"Harry Potter – you're starting to sound like me!"

Harry threw his free arm to his forehead in horror, making Lily giggle. " Blast! I've been Americanized! Merlin help us all – I'm doomed to start using hair care products and add a 'y' to every second word!" 

" I *_so_* don't do that!" Lily swatted him lightly on the arm. " Okay – maybe sometimes I do." The pair were silent in their corner as their housemates left the common room and headed down to dinner, Hermione and Ron glancing quickly toward the suit of armor but thankfully not coming over.

Harry could sense Lily was struggling with something, and he suddenly realized what it was.

"All this talk of Christmas got you thinking about your family, what they would be doing – whether they miss you?" It wasn't really a question. He could have kicked himself for not realizing earlier.

Lily turned to him, faintly surprised. "Yeah. How did you know?"

" I do it every year. Wonder whether my mum and dad would want me to come home for Christmas – have a big party like the Weasleys. Do all the things that families do – other than hex puddings, of course."

Lily sighed. " I don't even know my family. They could be dead, and not be able to have me – or they could be alive, and just not want me. Maybe I don't have a family at all – nobody knows where I came from, not even Dumbledore. At least you…" Lily stopped short, wide-eyed at what she'd almost said. "Oh Harry, I didn't mean…" Her eyes filled with tears again. 

*_At least I know that they're dead*_ Harry thought painfully. Lily had pulled away from him to bury her head in her hands. The only sign that she was crying was a slight shake of her shoulders – at some point in whatever life she'd had before Hogwarts, she'd learnt to cry silently. Did that even matter?

Numb from sitting on the stone floor, Harry stood slowly, checking the corridors for stray Gryffindors. When he was sure everyone had gone to the Great Hall, he touched Lily gently. " The common room's empty, will be for awhile – C'mon." He gave the password to the Fat Lady ('_Codswallop_') and they settled into their usual chairs, Lily still wearing Harry's jumper. 

Once more Lily scrubbed furiously at her face, but this time she refused to look at Harry, keeping her head turned. Not for the first time, Harry felt his heart clench at the sight of her curled so tightly in the large chair, looking young and vulnerable.

"Lily." She flinched, but didn't respond. Harry reached over and touched her shoulder softly, turning her body so she would have to look at him. "Lils, it's okay – it doesn't matter what you said." 

Her head turned slightly, and Harry was startled. He knew enough to recognize the 'whatever-you're-asking-I'll-do-because-I-want-the-world-to-just-go-away' look in her eyes, had seen it in his own eyes some mornings when he looked in the mirror. 

"It *_does_* matter, because I…for a moment there I was jealous of you because…because…" Lily bit her lip, not trusting herself to speak. Beneath his hand, Harry could feel her shoulders coiled like a cat ready to run. He reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. 

To his surprise, Lily didn't fight it, just let him pull her onto his lap. He kneaded her shoulders gently, his hands moving slowly against the tension until he felt her relax. She leaned back against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

"Lily… I'll always be here if you need me. You know that, right?"

Tilting her head, she smiled gratefully at him. Harry was struck with a flash of déjà vu that would have made Trelawney proud as their eyes locked for the second time that night. 

"More days like this one would mean happy Lily." She paused. "I mean, minus the total mind meltdown. Just the beginning and the end part. Can we have more?"

Harry smoothed blonde hair away from Lily's forehead, kissing it tenderly. 

"Provided Voldemort doesn't show up right now and try to kill me – again – we can have as many as you want."

In the days that followed, Harry would curse whoever it was that had allowed his Lightning Rod of Danger to also tune to Irony.

Their comfortable silence was shattered when the portrait door flew open, spilling Ron and Hermione into the common room in a tangle of panicked limbs. Lily was on her feet immediately as both Gryffindors began shouting at the same time.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Hermione and Ron were in no state to listen. 

"STOP YELLING!!" The pair fell silent at Harry's raised voice, before Hermione began explaining breathlessly.

"Vampires…all over the school…trapped everyone in the Great Hall….killing students…we escaped… Invisibility Cloak, Harry, I summoned it from your trunk. They can't be stopped with magic – most of them anyway. Nobody can fight them….eleven students dead already…"

Lily listened in growing horror as Hermione blurted the story out. There was something else – something stirring deep within her – it was as though a part of her was fighting to take control. 

At first, she tried to shove it back where it came from, but it was like shoving a fully grown, very angry elephant into a matchbox. 

The last thin threshold of her control snapped and the fire engulfed her, roaring in her ears like a freight train. Every instinct screamed at her to harness this strange entity – to use the power it provided. As though a fog had lifted, Lily knew what she had to do.

What she was *_born*_ to do. She couldn't name it; but she could *_feel_* it.

The Trio watched in disbelief as the Lily they had come to know and love was replaced by someone different, scanning the room for potential weapons, and when she found none, splintering the coffee table with no more than a bare fist to create stakes.

Harry was openly gaping at the girl who only a short time ago had seemed so fragile, lying in his arms. Did he know her at all? She was a blur of movement, handing stakes to each of them and taking a number for herself, tucking her wand into the band of her sweat pants. Again, his mind flashed back to Dudley and his tv shows – Lily was acting like an Army General. Like she had been doing it all her life.

Ron timidly raised his hand. Harry could see in his friend's eyes that he was scared of Lily. Thankfully, she didn't notice. 

"Er…Lils…we can't fight. I mean, there's a difference between fighting with Fred and George for Knuts and fighting…er… *vampires*!"

Lily looked at him, then at Hermione. She grinned suddenly at Harry, who had hiked up his sweat pants to conceal a stake in his left sock, bright red with a pattern of broomsticks (courtesy of Dobby in his fourth year, and only worn on laundry day or when Harry dressed in the dark). Lily's eyes fixed on the pattern, inspiration lighting in her eyes.

"You don't have to fight. _You just have to fly."_

*********************************************************************

A/N: Whew! You have no idea how long it took me to get to that point. This chapter has been revised 6 times, deleted and re-written twice, and shouted at…a whole bunch of times. Also, at 19 pages and over 7,000 words, it's the longest chapter so far.

I'm sure you can guess what's going to happen next… so no hints this time. I'll just say that Chapter 15 is when everything comes together….or, if you're looking at it from the characters point of view, falls apart.

Buckle up, we're headed for a bumpy ride…


	15. Fragile

A/N: Well, it would be the understatement of the year to say that a couple of people have been waiting not-so-patiently for this chapter….so we'll get right into it, shall we? 

For once, I've bowed down to peer pressure and cranked out this chapter as fast as I can type. For the record, this is a one time only deal – getting through this chapter nearly killed me.

Dedicated to: Lilfirecracker, my faithful beta, who has worked like a dog to get this one finished as soon as possible. I don't think she knew what she was signing up for really. Thanks ever so much hon. : )

**

_If blood will fall when flesh and steel are one_

_Drying in the colours of the evening sun_

_Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away_

_Though something in our minds will always stay_

_Perhaps this final act was meant_

_To clinch a lifetime's argument_

_That nothing comes from violence, and nothing ever could_

_For all us born beneath an angry star_

_Lest we forget how fragile we are_

********************************************************************

**Chapter 15: Fragile**

_#Hogwarts#_

To say that Hermione was apprehensive about this whole plan was a complete understatement. Here she was, creeping through the corridors of Hogwarts behind someone who had quite possibly gone insane, or at the very least, been possessed by a violence-happy entity. 

Clutching a broomstick, of all things.

Not only that, she hadn't really the faintest idea what was really going on. One moment she had been eating dinner with her fellow Gryffindors, listening to Ginny chatter about the approach of Christmas and the potential disaster that was dinner with the entire Weasley family, while beside her Ron had been inching deliciously closer.

The next, the heavy doors to the Great Hall had been thrown open to admit at least thirty vampires and the air had been filled with screaming. Summoning Harry's invisibility cloak – that was the kind of thing Hermione was good at. Logic and magic (and making Ron blush) came as easily as breathing after her years at Hogwarts. 

Flying, on the other hand…..

It wasn't that she *_couldn't*_ fly. There had been the obligatory lessons in first year with Madame Hooch, and sure, Hermione knew how to mount a broomstick and move forward, turn, even stop. She'd quickly found however, that she was a feet-on-the-ground type of girl, and had never really understood why Harry and Ron loved darting about the Quidditch pitch like madmen just waiting to get knocked off their brooms by a bewitched ball.

Beside her, Harry was silent, his eyes seemingly glued to the back of Lily's head. Ron, on the other hand, was full of questions as Lily motioned them into an empty classroom to avoid a group of vampires patrolling the halls.

"Er….what exactly are we going to do once we're in there?" he asked in a whisper. 

Lily turned and looked at them, and once more Hermione was struck with the thought that they didn't really know her at all. From the way Harry stiffened, she could tell he was thinking exactly the same thing.

"Simple, really. You guys are gonna try to thin the pack from the air. Stakes, fire, beheading – knock them out if you have to. Get everyone with a pulse out of the way. Try not to get knocked off your brooms, or bitten. And remember the first rule of slaying."

Lily opened the door a crack and seemed to concentrate hard – almost as if she could sense the vampires. Stepping into the hall, she waved them out behind her. 

"Er…..Lils? What's the first rule of…er…..slaying?"

Without looking at Ron, Lily answered in clipped tones.

"Don't die."

Hermione breathed sharply, reaching for Ron's hand. Finding it, she drew comfort from its warmth as they stopped in the shadows directly in front of the heavy wooden doors leading to the Great Hall. Lily scanned the area, and finding it clear, stepped up to the doors and tried the handle. Locked. Hermione could see Lily roll her eyes, and was just about to jump forward with her wand when the younger girl muttered under her breath.

" Nope, couldn't make it easy, could they. Time for the old Lily skeleton key. Hope they can deliver handles by owl post, Dumbledore." She turned to the Trio, her eyes meeting Harry's for a split second before she lowered her gaze. " Be ready." 

Hermione mounted her broom nervously and joined Harry and Ron hovering behind Lily. The blonde girl gave the handle one last hopeful turn, before drawing back and kicking the door down with an almighty crash. 

Hermione flinched as time seemed to stop, all heads turning their way. Strangely, Lily seemed completely at ease, almost…..cheerful?

"Hi there. Heard you were having a wild party down here, and I'm a little hurt that I didn't get invited…." A vampire rushed her, and before Hermione could blink, Lily's stake pierced his heart and he exploded in a shower of dust. "But I'll get over it." 

She motioned for the Trio to take off, and they obeyed. Brushing vampire dust from her clothing, she grinned at the stunned Hall. 

"Now, who's up for a spot of violence?"

***

Draco Malfoy had been surprised to see how many Slytherins were absent from the dinner table that night, but not entirely upset. After all, he was in no mood to be sociable tonight.

When the first vampire had entered the Hall, everything had suddenly become clear. Someone – quite possibly Voldemort – had set this little display up, and his housemates had been warned ahead to eat in their common room. 

Draco had just enough time for two thoughts – firstly, that his bastard of a father would certainly have known about this and had purposely left his son in the cold, and secondly, that they were all utterly screwed. 

In the panic, some students were getting eaten, others were screaming and crying, and a select few (mostly Gryffindors, insultingly brave to the last) were actually trying to fight the intruders, with very little success. Voldemort really *_had*_ thought of everything, including making the vampires impervious to magic. 

He dimly noticed that Weasley and Granger had disappeared from view, before his attention was diverted by a vampire currently draining the blood of a first-year Slytherin. 

As tiresome as most of his house-mates were, it just wouldn't do to have them bleeding all over the place. Besides, as a Prefect, it was in part his responsibility to keep his charges alive until school ended.

Seizing a blazing torch from a bracket on the wall, Draco strode over to the vampire, tapping it on the shoulder before thrusting the torch directly into its face. The vampire exploded in a shower of dust, the first-year falling to the floor. 

Draco bent down to check the girls pulse, only to be blindsided by another vampire with a force that left him seeing stars. His response was to spin his flaming weapon around and embed the pointed wooden end into its heart. As he choked on dust, the doors to the Hall flew from their hinges to reveal none other than the Dream Team....hovering on broomsticks directly behind one Lily Asher.

Draco stared. "Bloody Hell." 

Her voice carried throughout the silent Hall, the vampires having stopped their random slaughtering to assess this new threat. Even Draco had to admit she looked rather imposing, despite her diminished size. The girl simply *radiated* power.

He listened closely, then groaned. Hogwarts was under attack – and Asher was making *_jokes_*?

Draco heard her taunting invitation in crystal clarity. There was a moment of silence as the vampires looked incredulously at the petite girl, before at least six abandoned their prey and rushed her as one.

Time seemed to start again, and all Hell broke loose.

***

Lily's words rang in Harry's ears as he sped above the pandemonium, wand in hand. 

* _Get everyone with a pulse out of the way. Kill as many as you can. First rule of slaying – don't die.*_

He could see that for some, it was already too late. Students were bleeding left, right and centre. It was almost impossible to tell who was alive and who was dead among the throng. 

Urging his broom into a dive, Harry skimmed the top of the Gryffindor table, ramming his wand through the heart of a vampire who was snacking on Seamus. Seamus glanced up at Harry dazedly, before slumping to the floor, unconscious but thankfully still breathing. 

Circling, Harry spotted Malfoy wielding a nasty looking torch, randomly setting fire to vampires who came near him. Three beefy-looking vamps were approaching him from behind, fangs glistening. Harry shot toward his nemesis, wand poised. The vampires couldn't be affected by magic, but Malfoy certainly could.

"_Wingardium__Leviosa_!" Harry roared, wand pointed at Malfoy. 

To his relief, the Slytherin rose rapidly into the air just as the vampires reached for him. The fiery end of Malfoy's torch caught the biggest vampire's clothing, setting him alight. In his panic, the vampire stumbled, taking the other two down with him. All three were dust within seconds, by which time Harry had caught Malfoy on the back of his Firebolt. Incredibly, Malfoy still found time to be snarky.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for, Potter! I don't need ***you*** to be my knight in shining armour! Let me down!"

Harry was in no mood for Malfoy's posturing, having spied Neville Longbottom struggling in the grasp of yet another vampire. 

"Shut up and start burning, Draco."

To his amazement, his arch-enemy did just that, using the torch as a double ended weapon as Harry sped in Neville's direction. On the steps of the Hall, he could see Lily holding her own against at least four vampires, fighting with the effortless grace of a seasoned warrior. Not wanting to watch her move as a stranger, he turned his gaze to Neville, forgetting what he had been told and using his wand. 

Harry blinked in disbelief as the vampire burst into flames when hit by his spell, recovering quickly and pointing his wand at Neville.

Like Malfoy, Neville rose into the air, bleeding slightly but fully conscious. Instead of taking the Gryffindor on his broom, Harry bent down to shout above the din.

"Neville! I need you to get the other students up to the staff platform. Put this on and go as soon as you hit the ground!" Harry threw the trembling boy his Invisibility Cloak. Thankfully, Neville caught it, resolve entering his eyes a moment before he hit the ground running and disappeared from view. 

Malfoy snorted, wrenching the pointed end of his torch from the heart of a vampire. 

"Potter, have you gone insane? You're entrusting Longbottom, patron saint of fools, to round up lost sheep?"

Harry ignored him, waving frantically at Ron and Hermione who were doing whatever they could to lessen the vampire population. Ron sped over, Hermione slower but still right behind him. 

" Some of them can be killed with magic! Use whatever you can to get everyone who's human onto the staff platform, then wait for my signal." 

Without being told twice, Ron and Hermione began blasting random vampires with every hex and curse they could think of, clearing a path for the frightened students who began streaming onto the staff table. On the ground, the Professors were using magic to project stakes into hearts, as well as throwing the occasional curse. 

Harry and Malfoy whipped past Dumbledore, who had seen them coming and started to use a levitating charm on unfortunate vampires. As the vampires rose, Malfoy set them ablaze, showering the room with dust. Slowly, it appeared that they were winning, the vampires were considerably less than before. Harry allowed himself a moment of hope amongst the chaos.

Predictably, as soon as he entertained the thought that they might actually win, a dozen vampires burst through the entrance of the Hall, obviously the guard searching the school for any escaped students. To Harry's horror, they immediately swamped Lily.

Draco, having set fire to the lone remaining floating vampire, had noticed this, and yelled in Harry's ear.

"Scarhead! Bloody MOVE IT!!"

The combined weight of the two was enough to slow the Firebolt slightly as Harry strained to push it toward the opposite end of the Hall. He realized with a jolt that he could no longer see Lily, her blonde head having disappeared under the fresh wave of vampires. 

Passing Ron and Hermione, he signaled them to erect a wall of flame around the students gathered on the platform, before speeding toward Lily, panic rising in his throat.

***

*_Vampires*_, Lily thought, *_could be incredibly stupid*._

Many of them had simply rushed at her, only to find themselves impaled on a stake. Harry, Ron and Hermione had become blurs as she concentrated solely on the fight in front of her, ducking and weaving.

Hissing in pain as a cold fist connected hard with her ribs, Lily was momentarily winded. Months of being inactive were beginning to take their toll, the first waves of fatigue beginning to overtake her. 

Shaking it off with difficulty, Lily whirled around to snap the neck of a lone vampire creeping up behind her with a force that separated its head from its body. Three to go.

Her fist drove hard into the windpipe of another, sending the vampire flying against a handily placed torch. Without pausing, Lily snatched at a fourth stake in the waistband of her pants, only to have the world explode with pain as her arm was twisted savagely. 

The stake clattered to the floor as Lily stretched her injured hand to reach it, biting clear through her lip as a foot ground down on her exposed hand before kicking the stake out of reach.

Something in her brain suddenly went crazy, and a second later, fresh vampires were pouring through the doors and surrounding her, eyes gleaming at the prospect of blood. With only one good hand, and black spots dancing in her vision, Lily abandoned all pretence of banter and began fighting for her life, blow after blow rocking her body.

Struggling to stay conscious, Lily gritted her teeth, ignoring the blood from her lip running down her chin. At the other end of the Hall, vampires were floating in the air before exploding. 

One eye swollen shut, Lily wanted to laugh at the thought of flying vamps, but found she lacked the strength.

A savage kick to her left leg sent her to her knees, vampires closing in around her. Sheer weight of numbers, plus the fact that they were at full fighting strength, meant that it was almost impossible for her to gain any ground at all. 

Dimly, Lily could see a ball of fire speeding toward her. Drawing deep within herself, she managed to rise to her feet and continue the fight, actually succeeding in taking out a couple of extremely unskilled vampires. The fire was getting closer, and Lily could make out the shape of two figures on a broomstick, one holding a flaming torch. 

"Asher!"

The torch bearer – Draco Malfoy, she realized with a start – was yelling at her, eyes wild. The torch was suddenly spinning through the air toward her, and despite her injured knee, Lily used the stone steps as momentum to spring for it, almost sobbing in relief when her hands closed around the warmed wood. 

Landing heavily, she swept the torch in an awkward circle, igniting the remaining vampires and somehow managing to stay on her feet as they exploded into dust around her. Thirteen little piles of dust, she thought absently, before her injured leg gave out and she sank toward the ground.

Unable to stop herself falling, Lily braced herself for the impact, only to feel strong hands close around her upper arms and support her. Male hands….and that meant….

"Harry?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Tilting her head, Lily caught a glimpse of blonde hair and clear blue eyes, set in a face that had lost its usual arrogance under a coating of sweat and grime. Malfoy.

Her eyes flickered upward, where Harry hovered on his Firebolt, equally dirty. Unlike Draco's concerned blue orbs, Harry's were bitterly cold and empty. Without a word, he whipped his broom around and headed toward the other end of the Hall. 

" Well bugger me, Asher. You really *are* full of surprises. C'mon – let's get you down the other end with all those other wankers."

Tears bloomed silently in Lily's eyes as she allowed Draco Malfoy, the one person she despised at Hogwarts, to help her limp toward staff and students waiting at the other end of the Great Hall. 

Hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, the last thing Lily saw before she gave in to the darkness was Dumbledore's kind face, and behind him, Harry's stony gaze.

*********************************************************************

_#The Noble and Most Ancient Crypt of Spike#_

Two months ago, Spike would have laughed out loud if someone had suggested he spend a perfectly good hunting night babysitting his Grand-Sire. Laughed like the evil creature of the night he had once been (his future as said evil creature was currently uncertain), then snapped the neck of the fool who'd spoken.

Or if they had a heartbeat; glared really, really hard in their direction.

The scene before him was almost comical. Angel, potential cover-vamp for Haircare Weekly, was crouched silently in a corner, hair dripping limply across his overhanging forehead, lost in the mother of all broods.

There were probably icebergs floating in Hell right now that were more sociable.

"Say, Peaches, you planning to come out of there anytime soon? I've improved things a bit since last time you dropped by – colour telly, bar fridge, actual furniture. Fresh blood even – not human of course. Pretty sure it's pig, but then Willy always was a bit shifty about his sources." 

Still no response. Spike crossed to the fridge for a blood-bag, retrieving two from the bottom shelf and biting into one before he tossed the other at Angel's feet. Shuddering at the taste of cold, stale blood, he shrugged off his faithful leather duster before flicking the channels on the television randomly. Sports. News. Some kind of music program. Home Shopping Channel. 

Spike watched with raised eyebrows as a blonde tart smiled beneath layers of candy pink lipstick, five inch nails pointing at what she declared 'the very latest in state-of-the-art vegetable peelers'. Looked suspiciously like a bit of metal on the end of a lump of wood. Who bought this crap anyway?

" Peaches, doesn't this bird look like what's-her-name, the one you snacked on during the bullfight in Spain? Not bad for her age – almost lifelike."

Silence from the dark corner. Right. Spike had had enough. Snatching his duster from the chair, he planted his combat boots almost on top of Angel's coat. The untouched bag of blood burst with a satisfying squelch, thick red liquid adding to the mess on the floor. His Grand-Sire looked up at him blankly.

"Get up. We're going out. Rain's stopped and there's talk of a vamp nest in Shadyside Cemetery. Who's up for a spot of violence?"

Spike had no possible way of knowing that at that very moment, a very much alive Buffy Summers was echoing his phrase halfway across the world. Still, he felt an odd tremor pass through his spine. Ignoring it, he pulled a sword from a ledge above Angel's head, smirking with satisfaction as the finely honed edge shaved off a clump of dark hair.

Apparently violence sounded like a better idea than brooding, because Angel stood slowly and followed Spike into the night.

It seemed like an eternity since Spike had last walked this path, treading silently among the marble and wilted flowers of the cemetery. The grass under his feet felt the same – soft and springy, it gave way under his footsteps before rising again to cover the evidence that someone had indeed walked this path. 

That Spike himself existed, however pitiful said existence might be.

The night sky was just as black, the stars glittering high above mocking him with each glorious shimmer. The wind swirled black leather around his legs in exactly the same way.

For a brief moment, Spike allowed himself to concentrate on these things, to ignore the little details that beat upon his skull, insisting over and over that things would never be the same, now that *she* was gone.

There was one thing, he thought grimly as they leapt the wall surrounding Shadyside Cemetery, that was getting harder to ignore. It sang to him in the darkness, an eerie song of bloodlust and violence, growing stronger day by day. Spike knew all too well what it was – the Hellmouth was calling.

The thought crossed his mind to ask his Grand-Sire if he too felt it, but he dismissed it as quickly as it had formed. He doubted Angel would understand what it felt like to have his demon tug at it's bonds. Though the Great Poof had been a master of subtle cruelty in his glory days, these days he was an all-or-nothing kind of bloke. The terms were simple – shag or no shag, soul or no soul. 

Sure, his demon was still in there, but as there was little chance that Angel would get that moment of happiness anytime soon, it was a pretty sure bet that Angelus was locked tight under all that brooding. 

It wasn't as if the pull of the Hellmouth was a new phenomenon – even before he had brought Dru to SunnyHell he'd heard whispered tales among other demons. He dimly remembered driving the DeSoto steadily toward the borders of the town, feeling his demon stir with glee the closer they got. 

In retrospect, he realized that the pull had always been nestled in the bottom of his gut. Over the years, he had developed a sort of tolerance for it, until it faded into the background of his mind. Like the scar above his eyebrow, it never vanished completely, a reminder of what he was and where he'd been. 

 Part and parcel of having a demon animate his long-dead body, he supposed.

Now was a different story. The undead and evil in this town were growing bolder, whipping themselves into a frenzy courtesy of Hellmouth energy. The newspapers reported an increase in what they'd dubbed the 'Halloween murders' after hearing accounts of people in grotesque costumes slaughtering Sunnydale residents. The first daytime murder had made yesterday's papers.

The Hellmouth was awakening – more to the point, _*something_* with a great deal of power was prodding it toward new and potentially  more lethal heights. 

Arriving at the location of the vampire nest, Spike vented his frustration on the heavy door, which gave under his furious kick. It seemed he wasn't the only one with tension to release – Angel had brushed past him swiftly, disappearing in a blur of black fabric and bared fangs.

Staking a few stragglers half-heartedly, he leaned against a wall, content for once to sit back and watch the comic scene before him: inexperienced vampires foolishly trying to fight back against Angel. 

Just as the last stake was plunged into the remaining vampire, the ground beneath them shuddered, sending both Spike and Angel to their knees. Inside, his demon was attempting to split his body in two, fighting against the piece of silicone and metal that was his curse - and yet, also his blessing, for without it he would not have been thrust into the White Hat Brigade - would not have fought beside the Slayer rather than against her…

"Spike?"

With a start, Spike realized two things. First, that the tremor appeared to be over - the night air was now filled with a cacophony of car alarms - and second, that he had been sodding ***brooding*.**

Without a word, he rose and started in the direction of his crypt, no longer caring whether Angel was following. However uncomfortable the feeling of one's body dividing may be, it at least offered a moment of respite from the endless game of 'what if'. 

Peaches, to his annoyance, was close on his heels, now all recovered and apparently wanting to play let's-be-friends. Despite his deep dislike of Angelus, Spike would have rather been raped and taunted than submit to Soulboy's version of Twenty Questions. 

"Bugger off."

When Angel spoke again, his voice rang with a terrifying undertone that made Spike stop dead in his tracks.

"You feel it too."

Spike did not move, did not turn around lest his face betray him. He forced scorn into his words.

" What do you think I am, a bleeding idiot? This is California, Peaches. Earthquakes aren't that rare around here. So the ground shook. _Big fucking deal_. Now, if you're quite done…"

"Not the quake. The Hellmouth. You feel your demon stirring beneath your skin."

So Angel *_had_* felt it. With forced calm, Spike replied, feeling as he did that he was waist-deep in water and about to take a step into quicksand.

"This may come as a shock to you, Peaches, but I *_am_* a demon. No handy soul to stop me from doing whatever the hell I want - just a chunk of plastic speared through my brainstem. An evil, bloodsucking fiend, despite the Slayer's best attempts to make me her lap-dog."

The ferocity of the lie surprised even him. Angel was growling in anger. Somehow, Spike couldn't stop the words pouring from his mouth.

"Bitch always did have a soft spot for the neutered puppies."

With a roar, Angel tackled him from behind, but Spike had been ready for this. Bending low, he sent his Grand-Sire flying into a headstone, which cracked under the weight. In a heartbeat, Angel was on his feet again, eyes yellow. Still Spike continued to taunt him.

" Taught me some new tricks along the way, too. 'Course, most of them are sorta *_personal_*, if you get my drift…."

This time, Spike wasn't quite ready for Angel's attack, and it was he who was sent flying. Angel's boot pressed into his throat with enough force to crack his windpipe. Not that he needed it for anything except inhaling cigarette smoke.

" Watch your mouth or I'll sew it closed, William."

Shaking off the boot, Spike dodged out of reach.

"Is that the thanks I get for being man enough to do what you couldn't? For watching her back while you played the hero in the big smoke? Always were the first to pass the buck, weren't you?"

" She would *_never_* love you. You're a monster."

" Oh, so it's a cosmic crime to think outside the box of evil, bloodsucking fiend? Fuck you, Peaches. You think you have the monopoly on pain? Look around you. You made your bloody choice, you walked away. Weighed the odds and decided it was just too fucking hard to hang around, set up shop in LA like a happy little boy scout."

Spike weaved among headstones, no longer caring what happened to him, whether Angel staked him or not. Instead, he gave into the pull, let the anger flow through him like a cleansing tide. Angel's fist connected with his nose, borrowed blood spurting from both nostrils. Oh, but his Grand-Sire was royally pissed off.

" Buffy only kept you around because you were useful, a pitiful de-fanged creature willing to lick her boots at the first sign of affection."

Without missing a beat, Spike lashed out at his Grand-Sire, a thrill running through him at the echoing crunch of bone. Sire and Childe continued this way for long minutes, until Spike spun and pinned his Grand-Sire firmly to the ground.

" The Slayer *_needed_* me, trusted me with Dawn's life more than once. Didn't hear her asking *_you_* to leave your LA throne to help her out. You left her here to ***die***."

Angel's eyes were flashing dangerously. " Don't talk to *_me*_ about letting Buffy die, it wasn't *_me_* who failed on that tower."

The world disappeared in a haze of red hot fury as the thin shreds of Spike's control snapped. Still holding Angel down, Spike located a stake in the uncut grass and pressed it against his Grand-Sire's chest. Every dead nerve and sinew screamed at him to thrust it through the heart, to make it quick. 

Spike found his traitorous hand would not obey. 

The anger flowed from him suddenly, leaving him hollow and broken. Tossing the stake as far as he could, he released Angel, who looked equally as defeated. As if the fight had never happened, they sat in silence, not looking at each other. It was Angel who spoke first.

"We should go back to the house. Tell Wesley and Giles what just happened. There's something else doing this – something controlling the demons in Sunnydale."

Spike nodded slowly. Angel stood, wiping blood from his face. Without looking at his Grand-Sire, Spike offered the only explanation he was willing to give that night.

" She never loved me. Fuck, she hated me most of the time, her and her little Scoobies. But there were times when she made me feel almost like a man. She trusted me with the Platelet. That was enough."

When he looked up, Angel had disappeared into the night. Collecting his forgotten sword, Spike headed toward the Summers' house, an odd prickling feeling rising on the back of his neck .

Hidden  in the trees, a cloaked figure watched him leave, gritting his teeth in absolute fury. A heartbeat later, the Death Eater had vanished with a sharp 'crack'.

The Dark Lord was *not* going to be pleased about this.

*********************************************************************

_#Casa de Summers#_

The house was dark, the only light coming from flickering candles and the occasional torch-beam from the street. In the dining room, every chair was filled as the Scooby Gang waited for news from above. 

Shaggy sat silently in the corner, eyes bright in what could have been called anticipation were he not just Dawn's adopted dog. Willow had opened the door shortly after the quake had finished to find him sitting on the front porch, tail wagging furiously. As if sensing that something was wrong in the Summers house, he had gazed upstairs for a moment before settling himself in his current position.

Rubbing his eyes, Giles entered the room. Slightly startled to find the others staring at him, he retreated to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of single-malt and two glasses. Splashing a generous amount into each, he handed one to Wesley before draining his glass. The only one to protest was Anya, who glared indignantly at him.

"There are enough glasses in this house for an army. I'm not sharing yours."

Giles blinked dumbly before her meaning sank in. He sighed wearily.

" Anya, unless in the half hour I've been watching Dawn you magically aged a few months, you are still underage, and therefore not having a drink." 

" There was an earthquake."

Giles didn't see the point, and judging by the blank faces around him, he was not alone on this. Anya gave her patented are-you-all-stoned look, speaking in a voice one might use to explain something to a small child.

" Everyone knows that unexplained earthquakes are a sign of the apocalypse. I'd like to get to the passing out before that happens."

Cordelia raised an eyebrow, swiping Wesley's glass and raising it to her lips. Handing it back to him, she grinned.

"Sure, so you can wake up in the middle of Hell with a hangover. On another note, Giles…."

"Hey! How come she gets to drink?"

Cordelia didn't miss a beat. "My birthday was in April. I'm legal. Spank your inner demon and let's move on. How's Dawn?" This last question was directed at Giles. 

Seeing Anya's face go from red to puce in frustration, he gave in and went to the kitchen for more glasses. Pouring a tiny splash into each before handing them carefully around, Giles debated the best way to answer Cordelia's question.

Seeing their concerned faces flicker eerily in the candlelight, Giles realized that there was no way to gloss over the truth. If he could have spared their feelings, he would have done it without hesitating – no matter the cost. The fact remained that, legal or not, they had seen too much horror to be treated like children. 

" I believe the Key – Dawn - is reacting to a shift in dimensional energy. In a brief moment between her seizures, she spoke of hearing whispers. Apparently she has been hearing them since the night….s-since Buffy….jumped into Glory's p-portal."

Willow interrupted, her eyes bright with tears. " You're wrong, Giles! She would have said something – would have told us! She was fine until tonight."

Giles halted Willow's babbling with an upraised hand. " Dawn did not want to add to our troubles. I imagine she thought the voices were part of her grief, and would disappear in time. By the time she realized they were only increasing in intensity, we were caught up in translating the prophecy."

Tara had already made the connection. "She t-thought we would s-send her away, thinking she was g-going insane. S-she's been so quiet lately and w-we assumed it was b-because of Buffy."

During this time, Xander had been watching Giles closely. He had never really thought of the Watcher as old before this moment, but suddenly he could see every line, every shadow. Every heartache.

 The burn that had started in his chest was nothing to do with his empty glass. 

"There's more, isn't there?"

Wondering when exactly Xander had become so astute, Giles nodded slowly.

" We already know that the Key was created as a gateway to other dimensions. Where there is a door, there must be a lock to prevent dimensions bleeding into one another. A kind of tuning device, if you like, the Key is capable of matching the frequency of the user's intended destination."

"But Glory…"

" Glory's wish was to return home, Willow. It is likely that in her haste she miscalculated, failed to 'tune' the Key properly. When Dawn's blood was spilt, it opened the locks to all of the dimensions. It should have taken equal power to completely end the cycle."

Fred had been sitting quietly at the table, deep in thought. While the others sat mutely, stunned by this information, she spoke up timidly.

"Mr Giles, you mean that Dawn should not be here. This Glory, she made a mistake and unleashed something she could not control. The blood that closed the... the portal had to be identical to the blood that opened it." 

Fred paused, eyes darting nervously around as if to gauge the reaction. "Dawn was made from Buffy's blood – but they didn't put any of the Key in Buffy, did they?"

She was rewarded with a tired smile from Giles. "No, Fred. The monks did not anticipate Buffy sacrificing herself. As it is, the walls between the dimensions were closed, but weakened. To open them would still require immense power, but the Key is no longer essential."

The words echoed in the silent room. _*The Key is no longer essential.*_

"So Dawnie is just going to be human now? The Key part will fade from her?" 

They all desperately wanted Willow's words to be true, but it seemed unreal that things could be that simple. After all, the universe had so far allowed them nothing without a fight. Giles hated that he had to shatter that fragile hope.

" The Key and Dawn are not two separate entities. It is in her blood, entwined in every living cell in her body. If there is no need for the Key, it will cease to exist. If that happens…." 

He could not finish the sentence, did not want to speak those terrible words and make them true. Looking around, he saw that there was no need to finish the sentence that they already knew the end of. They knew, because they knew *him*; could read it in his stricken face.

" That's not FAIR!" Willow was sobbing. " We're not talking about some object here, we're talking about a little *girl*! Dawn has as much right to be here as any of us, she's lost her mother and her sister and she's suffered and cried and fought and she's HUMAN, dammit! We can't just sit around chatting and wait for her to DIE!"

"Willow, Giles never said…."

Willow was beyond reason. Her eyes solid black, she seized her empty glass and threw it forcefully at the wall, spraying shards of glass over Shaggy. The dog shot from his corner where he had been listening attentively to the conversation, black eyes gazing up at Willow in surprise. 

All eyes were on Willow as she sank to the floor, burying her face in the dog's mass of fur and sobbing. Shaggy seemed to fix his eyes on Giles as if asking for permission, awakening a horrible suspicion in the ex-Watcher's mind. 

Reaching behind him for the thin box on the table, Giles stood sharply, wand pointed directly at the animal.

"Get away from her." The dog complied, Willow staring at him in shock. That voice belonged not to the Watcher he had become, but to Ripper.

"Whoever you are, show yourself, or I'll bloody do it for you."

Shaggy's fur began to ripple, and there was the horrible cracking sound of bones shifting. 

Everyone watched in silence as the dog seemed to stand on his back paws which quickly became man-sized shoes. Fur disappeared, replaced by pants, shirt and heavy cloak, all black. Front paws became arms, one of which was grasping a wand similar to the one Giles was pointing. 

Finally, pointed ears and nose gave way to a mop of unruly black hair framing piercing blue eyes set in a very *human* face. Said eyes flicked to Giles's, watching carefully as the Watcher blinked in surprise.

Anya frowned, looking at her glass suspiciously. "Giles, did you put something in my drink? I swear I just saw Dawn's mutt turn into a sex god." She closed her eyes carefully, then opened them. "Nope – he's still there, all human-like."

To everyone's surprise, Giles relaxed the death grip he had on his wand, though he kept it pointed at the stranger. 

"Sirius Black?"

An answering nod. "Rupert."

Anya rubbed her eyes with her fists. " I am _*never*_ drinking again."

*********************************************************************

A/N: *music of doom* This does not look good for…well, anyone really. Except possibly Sirius, who is temporarily saved from peeing on trees. Smirk.

Next chapter: Buffy is looking for answers….actually, pretty much everyone is looking for answers. Meanwhile, Hogwarts deals with the aftermath of the attack, Voldemort is officially on the move, and Snape will perform the Snoopy Dance in the Great Hall stark naked. 

Reviews are much appreciated. Puh-lease?

*tigerlily (who may have lied about the dancing Snape part.)


	16. Aftermath

A/N: I've been overwhelmed with requests for Dancing!Snape. It could possibly be worked in somewhere, though maybe not Naked!Dancing!Snape. Someone suggested I toss a tub of grease in the mix, but I'm sure there's enough to go around. Plus there's a definite ick factor  there. We'll see.

CYA Statement (aka Disclaimer): Haven't done this for awhile – but everybody already knows they're not mine. HP is JK Rowling's creation, Buffy and Co are the property of Joss Whedon and his evil minions. Don't sue. 

Summary: You think the battle is over….I think we've only just begun.

This is for Kristine, who asked for a good dose of more Sirius (and also for him to morph naked in the Summers house). Well, I plan to come through on the first request. On with Sirius goodness!

*********************************************************************

**Chapter 16: Aftermath**

_#Casa de Summers#_

Time had slowed as Giles and the strange man looked at one another, as if assessing the threat each posed. After a long moment, Giles replaced his wand in its box, Sirius following suit by tucking his into his cloak. 

"Now that you've examined each others eyeballs, could someone tell me what the *hell* is going on? Or has it become normal to see animals turn into men in this town?"

Sirius half-smiled at Cordelia's obvious impatience. "Rupert, will you do the honours?" He turned to the assembled group, spying an empty chair next to Fred.

" May I?" Fred squeaked out a 'yes'. Sirius settled himself at the table and looked at Giles expectantly. When no explanation appeared forthcoming, Sirius sighed and began.

" My name, as you might have guessed, is Sirius Black. Now, I'm not sure what old Rupes has told you about our world, so he'll have to fill in the gaps as I go." Giles had recovered enough to take his seat, though apparently not enough to form a sentence. Before Sirius could continue, Anya interrupted.

"How about you start with 'why are you not a dog', and then 'why have you been lurking around here spying on us?'"

Sirius looked taken aback at her bluntness, but recovered quickly. " Albus was right about your charges, Rupert. Straight to the point as always." His eyes swept the room, appraising the group in turn.

" I haven't exactly been 'lurking around' as you put it. I was sent here by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to protect your young friend Dawn. The disguise was necessary – there are forces gathering who will have been warned of my human identity." Sirius's eyes darkened.

"They will know of my Animagus abilities as well, but the Hellmouth helps to distort some of the energies surrounding my dog form. Even the most skilled Death Eater would be hard-pressed to sense that a stray mutt is actually a wizard."

Xander held up both hands to signal a halt as he tried to process this information. 

"Sorry, you're an Ani-whatsit? Isn't that a children's show? *_And_* a wizard? Death Eaters? Plus you know Giles? I think I speak for everyone here when I say 'huh'?"

"He's not one of those infernal Animorphs that Dawn used to be fond of. An Animagus, Xander, is simply a wizard who has acquired the skill to shift to animal form. In Sirius's case – though I was unaware of this until now – he can assume the form of a dog." Giles explained, with a questioning look at Sirius.

" Since my mid-Hogwarts years, Rupert." To the others, he explained, "Rupes and I went to school together, though not in the same class or house. Rupert here was a Ravenclaw, supposedly filled with smarts though I never saw him use them. I was a Gryffindor, three years behind Rupert. His lot were notorious pranksters, earned quite a reputation in their time. Nothing compared to the Marauders, but that's another story. "

Giles looked as though he'd rather that information be unknown. Unfazed, Sirius continued.

"We're getting off track. To answer your question, Death Eaters are what wizards call the followers of Voldemort, a dark wizard that caused a lot of chaos in the wizarding world fifteen years ago. He met his downfall when he attempted to destroy a small boy by the name of Harry Potter. Almost two years back, he rose again and has been biding his time ever since – gathering his supporters. Setting his sights on a bigger target, you might say."

"The Hellmouth." Willow said quietly. Sirius stared at her for a second, clearly surprised.

" I can see your charges don't miss a trick, Rupes. Yes and no. Voldemort is after the Hellmouth as a way to gain an even greater power. Dumbledore believes he's figured out a way of contacting other dimensions, a sort of billboard advertisement for new recruits."

Short break, then. "What he wants is to bring them to this dimension. As you've discovered, there is more than one way to do this." His eyes flickered up to the ceiling as he paused to allow for processing time.

" Should Voldemort gain control of the Hellmouth, he will have access to its power. With that power, he can bypass the locks of the dimensions and allow all sorts of nasty things to enter. Rupert explained earlier about the barriers being weakened. He told you that the Key – your Dawn – is no longer essential. He was mostly correct."

On cue, hope flared in nine pairs of eyes. Sirius sighed.

" While it can be done without Dawn, the easiest way for Voldemort to access the dimensions is to use the Key. Our first thoughts were to allow this if there was no way around it – the Hellmouth will increase Voldemort's power hundredfold, make him far harder to defeat. When Albus learned that the Key was human, he sent me to protect her." 

He turned to Giles, who was thinking back to a particular day, a question in his eyes.

"That's right, Rupert. I took your letter straight to Dumbledore. He was quite pleased to hear from you after all this time, banished or not. The first day I arrived, I had orders to sniff around your house, see if I could locate the Key. Imagine my surprise when the spell I had settled on a human girl."

" It was s-strange – that d-day I mean." Tara said timidly. " D-dogs usually go a little….c-crazy when they see Dawn. S-shaggy – uh, you – didn't. I didn't th-think of it at the time."

Sirius had become used to this group's uncanny knack for thinking one step ahead of him. His face creased in a smile. "I suppose you could say I'm not your garden variety canine, Tara."

"How d-did you…."

"Know your name? I know all of your names – excepting your Los Angeles friends, of course. Strangely, Dawn insisted on talking endlessly to me, despite the fact that I couldn't talk back. Almost as if she sensed somehow that I was more than I appeared." The mood turned somber as thoughts flickered to the restrained girl upstairs. Sirius hurried to break the silence.

 "Also, I've been the household pet for the last few weeks. By the way, Willow, I've been meaning to thank you for the bath."

His comment had the intended effect. Willow answered almost automatically before gaping at him.

"You're welc – OH!" Anya snickered as Willow flushed. " And to think that I….washed…*_all*_ of you…oh Goddess."

Despite the situation, they all grinned for a moment. A framed photo on the wall caught Sirius's eye and he frowned. Giles followed the younger man's eyes to see a photo of Buffy, Willow and Xander taken sometime during Buffy's first year in Sunnydale.

"Buffy. My…Slayer." 

Sirius replied quietly, "Yes…I know who she is." Before Giles could ask why Sirius still looked so puzzled, Angel appeared in the room, Spike not far behind. 

Both vampires looked exhausted and more than a little battered. The tension between them quivered in the air as Spike crossed the room to put as much distance between them as he could. Angel barely registered the unfamiliar face before speaking.

" Wes, Giles – there's something controlling the demons in Sunnydale. Making them do things they wouldn't otherwise do. I think it has something to do with the Hellmouth. I – both of us – feel it crawling under our skin."

Wes looked warily at the two vampires, who up until now had been at least tolerant of each other's presence. Now, they were most definitely uncomfortable. Dismissing it as an effect of the Hellmouth, he was about to speak when Spike growled from his corner. 

In a heartbeat, the blonde vampire gripped Sirius by the throat and hoisted him into the air. Seconds later, Spike had dropped him unceremoniously on the floor, both hands clutching his head.

Despite the chip-induced pain, Spike's amber eyes were fixed on the wizard. His growled question was directed at Giles. "Watcher, what the sodding hell is this _*murderer_* doing in this house?" Strangely, Sirius was calm, as though he'd been asked this before. 

"And there you have the *_other*_ reason why I chose to remain in dog form while in this town. I may have been cleared of charges within the wizarding world, but Fudge conveniently overlooked a certain news bulletin warning the English muggles of my 'murderer' status." 

Watching their reactions, Sirius hastened to add somewhat bitterly, " You're not in danger – it was not me that committed the murders. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time." However, it appeared that their shock wasn't aimed at him.

"*_Spike_* watches the news? Pinch me, Wills, just in case this is a dream."

Willow ignored Xander, staring at Spike with a frown. "When were you in England?"

Chip or no chip, the vampire looked ready to leap toward Sirius for a second round.  "Around the time Captain Soul over there decided he wanted a free vacation to Hell. Took Dru there for a holiday, see the sights, sample the local cuisine. Wouldn't mind a bit of Brit blood right now." 

It was clear whose blood he was after, though his comment made Wes shrink slightly in his seat.

Giles sent a warning glance in Spike's direction. "Spike, Sirius is a friend, as well as an ally. He has been sent by a person I trust unconditionally to protect Dawn." 

At the mention of Dawn's name, Spike noticed for the first time that the youngest Summers was absent from the gathering. Giles realized that neither Spike nor Angel were aware of the sudden turn of events, and considering their mood, it was probably best that they were kept in the dark for now.

"Dawn is sleeping. You are staying here." The command in the Watcher's voice was glaringly obvious, and Spike obeyed, though his stance betrayed his annoyance at taking such an order. "Wesley?"

"While I don't understand the wizarding world and this….Voldemort; if he is planning to do what you say Mr Black…."

"Call me Sirius."

"Right, Sirius then. From what Angel has said, it seems Voldemort's plans are well underway. The Hellmouth is beginning to affect demons all over Sunnydale, which leaves us in a dangerous situation. I would suggest research, but I don't believe our usual sources will help. We need more information if we're going to stop him achieving his goal."

 Heads nodded around the room, save for Angel and Spike who just looked confused. Wes shot an I'll-explain-later glance at Angel, and turned to Sirius.

"Sirius, is there anyone in the wizarding world who has the information we need?"

"Dumbledore." Sirius answered instantly, massaging his throat which was printed with Spike's angry finger marks.

" Dumbledore is….the principal of the wizarding school?" A nod. " Would he be able to leave his school and travel here, by any chance?"

Sirius seemed to choose his words carefully before answering. "Albus has….other commitments at Hogwarts at the moment. We also have to consider the backlash that would occur if he were to visit Sunnydale. No doubt there are Death Eaters stationed here – possibly even watching this house." All eyes moved to the windows reflexively before re-focusing on him.

"Voldemort cannot defeat Dumbledore, but he would seize the opportunity to destroy his known allies. Especially since you have something he needs. I think you have enough problems without being under a magical attack."

" Oh! We could go to England!" Willow blurted, before correcting herself. "I mean, *_you*_ could go to England and get what we need. We could stay here….who wants to see what a magic school is like anyway?" The longing was plain in her voice.

Xander eyed his best friend. " Well, it definitely sounds like *_you_* wanna go. 'Course, I could be wrong. You could have an elsewhere to be. Me, I have some work-free time to kill, then there's the whole never-been-on-a-plane thing…."

Sirius raised his eyebrows in amusement. " Rupert, it's good to see that you've passed on your particular brand of subtlety to the next generation. I believe Muggles have a saying that involves some kind of sledgehammer?" 

The original Scoobies gaped at this new revelation, no doubt remembering the long-winded and somewhat cryptic Giles of old. 

While they were distracted, Sirius glanced again at the photo on the wall. Dared he bring Buffy's friends and Watcher to Hogwarts? 

They believed their friend dead, and from what he had seen during his time in the Summers house, their grief was a scar that had only recently begun to heal. Buffy herself still had no idea who and what she was. Was it fair – to anyone – to take the chance?

A loud screech, followed by a sickening thud interrupted his musing. Sirius looked up to see a large brown shape slide down the window, a piece of parchment tied to its leg. He rose quickly to open the window, allowing the stunned owl to perch on the windowsill while he removed and opened the letter. 

Turning so that only he could read the flowing script, he scanned it quickly before igniting it with his wand tip. Digging an owl treat from his robes, he offered it to the unfortunate bird which nipped his finger a little too hard before flying away.

Sirius turned to Willow and Xander. "If your parents will allow it, we will leave in half an hour." Both Americans looked at Giles for permission, a move Sirius thought slightly odd. Giles appeared puzzled by the sudden turnaround in attitude, but thankfully didn't ask questions. He simply nodded his agreement, trying hard to keep the disappointment from his face. 

"Rupert, Albus would like you to come too, ban or no ban." 

"But Dawn…."

Cordelia jumped in quickly. "Will be fine. We can look after her. Angel and Spike can patrol-" At this the two vampires looked disgruntled but didn't argue. Cordelia continued, " Go. Find the info, stop the bad guy. We'll do Hellmouth duty."

Willow squeezed Tara's hand before standing. "I guess I better pack." Tara rose too.

"I'll check on Dawnie." 

Xander looked panicked. "Packing is probably a good idea. Half my stuff's here anyway, but I have to get…stuff. Ahn, honey, come with me?" Anya was pouting at Xander, obviously put out at having to stay behind. 

Sirius sighed, having taken quite a liking to the blunt girl, but knowing that if he allowed one more person to come, he may as well invite everyone. He stayed silent as the couple left, Anya still pouting.

Cordelia looked expectantly at Giles. "Well? Aren't you leaving too?" 

The ex-Watcher stood, concentrating for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he disappeared from the room with a sharp 'crack'. Sirius grinned as the Muggles blinked.

"Okay, who taught Watcher-man how to go 'poof'?" Cordelia asked. 

Nobody answered, but Sirius was sure he saw Spike smirk in Angel's general direction.

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

The battle had ended, the threat to Hogwarts defeated. Yet as the stunned students looked around the Great Hall, it became clear that their victory had come at great cost. 

Among the debris of splintered wood, scorch marks and spilled food, blood stained the floor crimson, dripping sluggishly from wounds to pool on whatever surface was nearest. Professors were hurrying from body to body, checking for feeble signs of life and covering the dead with the heavy drapes that normally hung from the stone walls.

Those who had made it to the staff platform uninjured huddled closely together as they sought comfort the only way they could. Many of the younger students were sobbing, the older students fighting back their own tears as they tried desperately to offer a fragile reassurance. 

Even the few Slytherins that had attended dinner had united with their fellow schoolmates, an event that would have been called a miracle had the circumstances been less tragic. 

In a cleared space in the middle of the Great Hall, Dumbledore was giving orders quietly to the Professors who had escaped injury.

"Minerva, Severus, you will see to it that the uninjured students are returned to their respective houses at once. Any students or staff in need of medical attention should be escorted to Poppy – Madame Sprout, if you would oblige." 

Dumbledore paused, allowing the Professors time to follow his instructions. His eyes swept the room thoughtfully. "Where is Professor King?"

Snape looked scornful. "I believe King decided that her post was too stressful for her, Albus. She was last seen retreating to her office to pack." 

Dumbledore lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. " If Anthena has decided she is best suited somewhere else, who am I to intervene?" He eyed Snape thoughtfully. "However, there remains the question of finding a suitable Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor at short notice. There will be time for that later."

Dismissing the thought, he motioned to the diminutive Charms Professor. 

"Professor Flitwick, I must ask you to prepare a binding charm to apply to the portraits. It is crucial that tonight's events be kept within these walls until I can decide on a suitable course of action."

Once the Hall had emptied he turned a concerned gaze toward the five students that stood before him. Harry, Hermione and Ron were watching Draco with suspicious eyes as the Slytherin boy supported Lily, who was fighting to remain conscious.

"Mister Malfoy, if you will take Miss Asher to Madame Pomfrey immediately for treatment, then return here as promptly as you can. I wish to speak with you before you return to your house. Harry, Hermione, Ron: please proceed to the entrance to my office and wait for me there."

Harry looked at the debris littered around the Hall, and looked at Dumbledore stubbornly. "I'm not sitting in your office while there's…things to be done." 

Instantly, Hermione and Ron nodded their agreement. Identifying their need to feel useful at this point – more as a distraction than anything – Dumbledore sighed.

"Very well. Draco, take Miss Asher - " For the second time in as many minutes, he was met with resistance, unconvincing though it may be.

" Not – going. Might – turned - rise. Am – fine." Lily had pushed Draco's arms away to stand unsteadily. Ignoring her, Draco snorted in disbelief.

"Bloody Hell, Asher, you're not fine. Stop being a stubborn chit and come quietly or I'll…." Lily had her wand out before he could finish the sentence.

" Not – best day – to test my reflexes. Am – staying." 

Lily locked her one healthy hazel eye on Draco's icy blue orbs in defiance. Ron watched wide-eyed as they remained like that for a long moment, a silent battle raging. 

"Malfoy's gone nutters, arguing with *her*. She'll kill him!" His whisper was meant only for Hermione's ears, but Lily flinched visibly before bowing her head. Ron reddened under Dumbledore's reproachful gaze, looking at the floor.

"Miss Asher."

Lily refused to raise her head. Ron's words had stunned her more effectively than a kick to her stomach. Dumbledore's voice softened even as his eyes warned the Trio to stay silent.

"Lily. You have done enough for Hogwarts tonight. Come - I will take you to Poppy myself." 

Dumbledore's words seemed to drain the resistance from the petite Gryffindor, and four pairs of eyes watched in silence as Lily allowed herself to be led, limping and battered, from the Great Hall.

As the pair disappeared, Ron turned to Hermione in shock. 

" Bloody Hell. Did you see the way she fought those vampires? Dunno what Dumbledore was thinking, letting someone like *that* into Hogwarts. No human can fight like that! Who knows what she'd do to someone if they pissed her off!!" 

He glanced at Harry, a thought occurring to him. "Lucky you didn't get too close to her, mate – she's dangerous!"

Harry did not reply. Dropping his Firebolt on the floor, he moved away from the small group and began righting chairs at the Hufflepuff table, his back to his friends. Ron looked to Hermione for support on his theories, only to find her deep in thought. Opening his mouth, he made as though to continue his raging against Hogwarts, Dumbledore and the girl they called Lily Asher. 

" You'd reckon she'd have told us – or Dumbledore at least. If there's a murderer in the school, we've got the right to -"

Draco had heard just about enough. " Weasel, you really are a wanker. Look around you – eighteen students bloody *died* tonight, and Merlin knows how many are in the hospital wing."

Ignoring Ron's indignant glare, he continued. 

"Asher *saved* your sorry life when those vampires attacked, got beaten half to death for a bunch of ass-pansies when she could have been safely tucked in Gryff Central…and all you can do is fucking whine because for once someone other than you lot did the rescuing."

"But she…."

Draco's voice had turned dangerously quiet. " Has it ever occurred to you in between all that condemning you've been doing, that Asher might have been as clueless as you are? Thought you Gryffs went crackers for loyalty and such."

Behind Ron, Hermione looked horrified as the meaning of Draco's words sank in. For once, the girl appeared to be lost for words. 

"Ron – Draco's right. We abandoned Lily as soon as we saw her…change. What did we do?"

The trademark Malfoy smirk returned. "Glad to see your reputation isn't entirely shot to hell, Granger."

Ron looked from Hermione to Malfoy in shock that soon turned to anger. "Ferret Boy is right? Glad to see I've got your support, Hermione. Thanks for bloody nothing." He strode to the Gryffindor table and began clearing debris with short blasts from his wand. Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration, then followed suit – at the opposite end of the Hall to Ron.

Draco was left standing in the middle of the Hall, feeling oddly empty. It seemed his main ambitions up until now had been firstly to avoid joining Voldemort's compulsive tattooing club, and second, to split up the 'Dream Team'. 

Having apparently achieved his second goal, he should feel – well – satisfied. After six years of taunting and throwing the odd hex, surely a round of Filibusters Fireworks or a private dance of joy was justified.

Most likely he was just tired from the night's events. Yes. That was what the problem was. What else would it be?

*********************************************************************

In a secret chamber buried far under Malfoy Manor, a group had gathered for a status report. Though the chamber was quite large, several Death Eaters were nervously shifting in their chairs as though the walls were closing in around them. Low murmurs echoed around the space, the inner circle of Death Eaters discussing their progress as they waited for their Lord to arrive.

With a whisper, the torches bolted to the walls flared with green light, then died suddenly, plunging the room into inky darkness. The robed figures fell silent in a mixture of anticipation and fear, their eyes searching the darkness fruitlessly for His arrival.

" Faithful followers." The hissing 's' lingered in the room as Death Eaters straightened unconsciously. The echo of the walls made it near impossible to tell where the voice was coming from – it seemed to close in around them, assaulting them from every angle.

"_Torca__ inflammare."_

Flames flickered as the torches flared to life, revealing Voldemort standing before them, impatience on his snakelike face. Murmurs of 'My Lord' rang out as heads bowed in respect. Waving a skeletal hand, the Dark Lord motioned to a particular figure trembling in a corner.

" Byrde, what is the status of events on the Hellmouth? The vampire is dead, is he not?"

Byrde, his emaciated figure shaking inside his robes, turned watery eyes to his Master in supplication. His voice shook with terror. " My Lord, vampires are nothing more than animated corpses. Indeed this one is dead, else he would not be a vampire."

Red eyes narrowed in fury. Before Byrde had a chance to react, Voldemort had shot a bolt of light toward him. "Crucio."

Above the man's screams, Voldemort spoke. " You waste my time, Byrde." Lazily, he ended the curse. " I ask you again. Is the vampire dead?"

Byrde shook his head before prostrating himself at his Master's feet. "I beg you Master, show mercy on your incompetent servant. The vampires fought, as intended, but neither struck the killing blow. They appear to be resisting the combined pull of the Hellmouth and your great and powerful magics."

"You did not think to kill him yourself?" At this, Byrde began to sob. 

"Master, th-they were g-gone before I could leave my p-p-position. The t-target had disappeared into t-the n-night, and the other…" His voice trailed off as a fresh wave of pain wracked his frail body. Eyes watched in silence until Byrde went limp, unable to move but still conscious.

Voldemort was furious, his pupils narrowing to slits in blazing red eyes. Rather than shouting, he lowered his voice to a terrible half-whisper that sent shivers up the spines of the watching Death Eaters.

"Would you deny me the power I am entitled to, Byrde? Do you perhaps wish me to remain as I am now, forced to work secretly lest the Potter boy and that fool Dumbledore discover my intentions?"

"N-no, my L-lord."

" The vampire you have failed to kill protects the Key. While it walks this earth, the object containing the Key remains hidden and unattainable. The Watcher was unable to reveal the exact position and form of the object, even when subjected to the most strenuous torture. He could only scream of a vampire and a fallen Slayer working side by side to conceal the Key. The vampire is the link. The link must be severed."

Glancing to a figure on his right, Voldemort paused, his anger fading somewhat. 

" Lucius, what of the Hogwarts attack?"

Malfoy Snr's cool tones filled the room as the Death Eaters breathed a sigh of relief. Their Lord was a dangerous man when faced with failure.

" I expect an owl from the commander of the vampire team shortly, my Lord. That is, provided the demon does not consume the bird I sent him – vampires do tend to be rather uncivilized, though they make most useful allies."

"Why depend on the vampire, rather than your son?"

Lucius's eyes turned icy. " My Lord, I felt it best to place Draco in the Hall at the time of the attack, thus providing an alibi. As you know, Draco is trying to discover the weapon reportedly hidden at Hogwarts. It would not do to have him locked in Slytherin House with his fellow housemates – surely Dumbledore would become suspicious." 

Here he shot a piercing look to the crowd, clearly indicating his displeasure at their decision to warn their offspring.

"Draco has worked to earn the old fool's trust, and it would be foolish to sacrifice that trust. It will appear to Dumbledore that Draco has fallen from your graces, and was merely uninformed of the attack – thus paving the way for Draco to continue his investigation."

Voldemort indicated his approval. " It is a loyal man who is willing to sacrifice his son for such a cause. Lucius, you have proven yourself worthy time and time again."

Lucius bowed his head in respect. "My Lord, no sacrifice is too great to aid your rise to power."

"And the Slayer?"

" She has proven herself ready to serve you. Still she remembers nothing but what she truly is, and more importantly, which side she shall fight for. Eradicating her memory has primed her for complete obedience of your every order. Her continued conditioning has removed the annoyingly American desire to rebel."

"Excellent. Lucius, you will inform her that her task is to infiltrate the group that has caused me much irritation. You know, of course, of whom I am speaking. She has already provided me with much useful information about them. We shall see if their strong bond can stand up to the chaos that she shall cause."

Lucius nodded his agreement, and Voldemort turned his attention to the pitiful shape on the floor. "Byrde, you have failed to carry out the orders I gave you. Have I not shown that I am displeased by failure?"

"Y-yes, My Lord. I am y-your humble s-servant and willing t-to accept any p-p-punishment you f-feel is required."

Byrde flinched as Voldemort raised his wand and began to speak. "Avada-" He paused, considering. 

"Until today, Byrde, you have unearthed useful information from your position in the Ministry. In light of this, I am willing to grant a reprieve." Byrde sighed. Ignoring him, Voldemort addressed the room.

" Let this be a warning to you all. Should you fail me, the consequences will be painful." Another bolt of light shot from his wand toward Byrde. His eyes fixed on the writhing man, Voldemort continued, " Byrde escaped death simply because he is more useful while alive. Others may not be. Do not place yourself in position where I am forced to decide."

Following this obvious dismissal, Death Eaters began to apparate from the room, leaving only the unfortunate Byrde, Lucius Malfoy, and the Dark Lord in the chamber. Voldemort turned to Lucius.

"Let us leave him to enjoy the consequences of failure. I wish to speak more with you about my Slayer's task."

The two disappeared with a crack as Byrde continued to scream.

*********************************************************************

_#Hogwarts#_

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione's anxious voice cut through Harry's senses. Next to appear was her frightened face, looming over him. 

It was then that Harry realized two things. One, he was lying on the dust-covered floor of the Great Hall. Dimly, he could remember sitting at the Ravenclaw table, intending to have just a few minutes rest after hours of clearing debris.

 Two, he hadn't just imagined what had happened – he had been there in the darkened chamber while Voldemort tortured one of his Death Eaters for not doing his job, which was….

Harry couldn't remember at first. Something about Hell, and a mouth…and a vampire that Voldemort clearly wanted dead. So that he could get….a Key.

Why would Voldemort want a key when he could just use 'Alohomora'?

Hermione's gasp startled Harry, who hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. In the background, Ron and Malfoy were hovering, faces curious. Harry wanted to laugh as he watched Malfoy realize he was 'having an expression' (as Lily had once said), check whether anyone had noticed, then set his features into a look of boredom.

Standing, Harry looked around for a stray piece of parchment. Spotting a fragment, he used his wand to enlarge it ('Engorgio'). Hermione, guessing what he was doing, produced a quill from somewhere in her cloak. Harry began to scribble furiously, not wanting to forget anything.

*

_Death Eater called Byrde, works somewhere in Ministry. V furious because Byrde failed to…kill a vampire that protected a key. V wants key for something. Key is kept in Hell…Mouth? Looking for a weapon at Hogwarts. Voldemort ordered vampires to attack as a distraction. Slytherins knew. Malfoy (?)_

_Slayer is prepared, been giving Voldemort information. Task is to infiltrate group (?), memory has been wiped. American. Chaos._

_*_

Here Harry dropped the quill, not caring that it sprayed ink over his filthy clothes. A horrible suspicion had begun to form in his mind.

"Hermione…what's Slayer?"

Hermione appeared to flick through the giant book that was her mind before answering. " An American thrash metal band." Three sets of eyes stared blankly at her. "What? I live in a Muggle city – they're popular!"

"So, we're supposed to believe that Voldemort – pipe down, Weasel – has wiped the mind of a band that makes music by thrashing metal, and is going to use them to aid him in rising to total power?" 

Hermione ignored Malfoy as she re-considered her answer. "Oh – you mean *The* Slayer. That's different. Professor King mentioned the Slayer when we were doing vampires in DADA, remember?" Obviously they didn't. Hermione sighed. 

"Well, she didn't know much, so I went to the library to look it up yesterday. I had it written on a bit of parchment – maybe it's still in my cloak." Digging through the magically-enlarged pockets, she held it up in triumph. 

"I only had time to look in one book before Charms. Here's what "Mystical Creatures Through the Ages' said….. _The Slayer (also see __Chosen__ One): One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to fight vampires. Guided by a Watcher (see Watcher's Council), the Slayer possesses superior strength, enhanced senses, and advanced healing power."_

 Harry watched as Hermione's eyes widened in comprehension. She stumbled over the last few sentences, her face paling.

"_As Slayer power stems from dark origins, they are often considered highly dangerous. A supernatural killing machine, Slayers are feared by many demonic species and often will not hesitate to 'slay' anything that should get in their way."_

Ron choked in horror. Hermione's voice faded to a whisper.

"_Contact with The Slayer has been forbidden by the Ministry of Magic following a tragic confrontation in the late 19th century, during which two Ministry Officials were slain…."_

Hermione looked at Harry in disbelief, lost for words. Beside her, Malfoy had lost his 'bored' guise in favor of 'horrified'.

"So, what does this Slayer person have to do with us?" Ron, it seemed, was the only one who hadn't yet made the connection. For a moment, nobody spoke – as though saying it out loud would make it true. 

Finally, Harry spat out, "You heard what Hermione said – there's only one Slayer."

"And?"

" Enhanced healing? Abnormal strength? Voldemort talking about an American girl whose memory has been wiped?"

Ron's eyes widened as Harry continued, the betrayal smarting.

"That 'Slayer person', as you put it, is Lily. Lily is working for Voldemort, feeding him information about us. What makes us happy, what we want most. How to kill us."

Ron had turned white under the layer of vampire dust coating his face. There was silence as the Trio thought of the things they'd told Lily in the past months. Information about their families. Their deepest secrets. All of which Voldemort most likely knew by now.

"Dumbledore's gone mad, letting her in here. You-Know-Who must have done some kind of cloaking spell to hide her identity. I gotta say she's good – acting or not, I didn't suspect a bloody thing. Why didn't the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin then, if she's a Death Eater?" Ron mused.

Draco snorted, something that was becoming a habit. " Too bad the old thing didn't. I would've liked to see Parkinson try to pick a fight with her. Pug-dog meat." He glanced up at the enchanted ceiling, which had turned the rosy pink of an approaching sunrise. 

" Dumbledore's obviously forgotten about us. Probably got thrashed by the Slayer. If you lot don't mind – not that I care if you do – I'm off to bed."

Stunned, the Trio watched Malfoy stalk from the Great Hall. Harry sat down heavily, soon followed by Ron. Hermione remained standing, her face twisted in a frown. 

" Ron – Harry….I don't think Dumbledore's coming back tonight. Let's go to bed. Things might be clearer after we've slept."

Although no-one believed that sleep was the answer to their problems, they had to admit that it was a more attractive option than remaining in the Great Hall, surrounded by fallen students. Harry was the first to rise, striding away without looking at his friends. Ron, apparently still angry at Hermione for siding with Malfoy, followed suit.

Hermione was left in the middle of the silent Hall, wondering when exactly things had begun to go so terribly wrong. 

*********************************************************************

A/N: Thanks to those who take the time to review. It's nice to know that there are actually some people out there reading this, and that I'm not typing like a madwoman for nothing. : )

In Chapter 17: Dumbledore drops the cryptic, Buffy awakens to find her life has been turned upside down – and the Scoobies have landed at Hogwarts. 


	17. Removing the Masks

A/N: This may be my last update for awhile – I've got Real Life stuff to deal with: namely uni exams. Also losing my internet connection for awhile while I move house. So, apologies in advance for lack of updates. I'll be writing bits in between, and will post as soon as I can. 

Please don't demand that I update in reviews and/or emails, I don't respond well to threats and all you'll achieve is to get me mad and therefore less likely to hurry things up.

This chapter dedicated to the wonderful people who take the time to review and email regularly. I won't name names for fear of forgetting somebody, but you know who you are. Mucho gracias.

*

_If you can keep your head when all about you, _

_Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; _

_If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, _

_Yet make allowance for their doubting too; _

_If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting; _

_Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, _

_Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, _

_And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise. _

- Excerpt from 'If', by Rudyard Kipling.

A/N2: This is the last we'll see of Sunnydale for a little while, so enjoy it while you can….

********************************************************************

**Chapter 17: Removing the Masks **

_#Casa de Summers#_

"Sorry – here now!"

The front door slammed as Xander and Anya rushed into the living room, both looking slightly rumpled. Dropping his bag on the floor, Xander flushed as Spike pointedly sniffed the air, then smirked. 

"Didn't think your…goodbye….would be so **short**, whelp."

Xander glared at the vampire. "Bite me, Bleach." He turned to Sirius, who was looking at his watch. "Did I make us miss the plane?"

The wizard looked puzzled. "Plane?" He looked to Giles for an explanation.

" A muggle invention – a metal deathtrap with propellers, minimal breathing space and inflight movies that inevitably involve a heroic dog or Chevy Chase."

The ex-Watcher found himself on the receiving end of multiple amused grins. He frowned. " You don't agree?"

Willow patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. " You do realize how, um…elderly British man that sounded, don't you?" She glanced at Sirius, who was still looking confused.

"Sirius….how *are* we getting to Hogwarts? It's just – England isn't all that close. Are we going by boat? I don't like boats…. I had a bad experience on a field trip in sixth grade; the rocking makes my stomach all unhappy. It could have been all the cotton candy, but Jesse dared me to eat three and you know I can never refuse a dare – oh! I'm babbling. Sorry. It's a nerves thing."

Sirius's answer was to hold up an empty box of soap flakes. "We're taking a Portkey, Willow."

"Huh? We're whatting a who?"

Sirius checked the clock on the mantelpiece before answering patiently. " Wizards use them to travel from one place to another quickly, if they're in a large group or aren't licensed to Apparate." Before Willow could open her mouth, Sirius added, "What Rupert did before."

The hands on the clock showed it was almost eleven. Sirius motioned for the Scoobies to say their goodbyes and get their bags.

" Promise us you'll write – or phone – if anything apocalypsy happens. We'll come back right away."

" Anya, do try not to badger the customers too much."

" First sign of funky Hellmouth awakenings, you'll get a call, trust me."

"I do _*not*_ badger! I am simply encouraging them to give me their money and leave quickly."

" If Dawn gets any worse…."

"We'll call you immediately. She's in good hands, Willow."

Sirius cleared his throat meaningfully, pointing to the clock. One minute to eleven.

Hugs were exchanged quickly before the three departing Scoobies shouldered their bags and joined Sirius, each gripping a corner of the empty box tightly. 

Silently the seconds ticked away. Thirty. Giles warned Spike wordlessly to behave. Twenty. Willow and Xander sent one last glance toward Tara and Anya.

"Love you baby. We'll be back soon."

_Five…four….three…._

The box began to glow faintly, the light spreading until it surrounded the four figures. Willow felt a sharp tug just below her navel, as though a hook had lodged there and was pulling her in two. A roaring filled her ears as the clock began to chime eleven, and she looked up with wide eyes to see Xander's astonished face.

There was a flash of light, and the world spun dizzily. Willow closed her eyes to ward off the sick feeling that had begun to rise. The roaring seemed to lessen suddenly, just as her feet hit solid ground. 

Cautiously, Willow peered around the room they had appeared in. Cluttered with whirring silver instruments, books and a large wooden desk, it was unlike anything she'd seen before. Paintings lined the walls, which stretched upward in an arch. A tower, maybe? A flash of movement caught her eye.

" What have we here? Intruders! Sound the alarm!" The voice appeared to come from thin air. Try as she might, Willow couldn't see anyone unfamiliar in the room. All at once, several voices joined in.

" Do shut up, Phineas. Been sent to Dumbledore's office for punishment, dearie?"

Willow followed the kindly voice, her mouth dropping open when her eyes locked on a friendly-looking witch with silver curls – peering at her from what appeared to be a painting. Beside her, Xander  let out a gulp of surprise, rubbing his eyes.

"Wills….that painting over there just moved."

The witch waved at them, beaming. Around her, other paintings were still arguing, oblivious to Willow and Xander's surprise. 

"Nonsense, Dilys, they're far too old to be students. And Sirius is with them!"

At this, the bearded man that the witch had called Phineas sat up straight, fixing his eyes on Sirius. Willow thought dazedly that he looked rather scornful – for a painting.

"*_You_* brought them here? Knowing the risk you were taking? Why, just tonight there were vam…"

" That will be enough, Phineas." Willow looked at the paintings, trying to find the source of this new voice. The moving figures had all fallen silent. The witch named Dilys noticed Willow's searching eyes and discreetly nodded toward the front of the room. Xander nudged her gently.

"Willow…"

Standing at the heavy wooden desk was one of the strangest men Willow had ever seen. Clad in forest green velvet - complete with a pointed cap - his white hair and beard nearly touching the ground, his stance radiated power and control though his face was lined and somewhat tired. In contrast, his eyes twinkled merrily as they appraised first Xander, then Willow, before coming to rest on Giles.

"Rupert. It has been too long since our last meeting. Time appears to have treated you kindly these last – what has it been, twenty years this spring?"

"Twenty five, Professor Dumbledore." 

"Ahh…How the years fly by. As you are no longer a student, I insist you call me Albus. These are your charges, I presume?" Giles nodded, somewhat awestruck.

The aged wizard smiled at Willow and Xander, who found themselves speechless. Willow was the first to recover.

"Sir, thank you for letting me – uh, *_us_* - come here. I promise we won't be any trouble….well, trouble seems to follow us around these days, but we won't break anything or turn your students into frogs, and I'll try not to cast any spells coz they sometimes go all wonky and then I have to bake lots and I don't know if wizards use normal ovens or just conjure up cookies.…" She paused, breathless.

Dumbledore chuckled, retrieving a dish full of sweets from atop his desk and offering them around. "Miss Rosenberg, I presume. Lemon drop?" 

Not wanting to seem rude, Willow took one, surprised to find that as she sucked the sweet a calm swept through her body. She turned questioning eyes to the Headmaster, who apparently anticipated her question.

" They have been treated with a calming elixir – I often find them most helpful when filling out paperwork and such. There is something quite soothing about distracting yourself with a constant sucking motion, is there not?"

Willow nodded slowly. Light had begun to filter in through the tower windows, bathing the room in the icy glow of winter sunbeams. Wherever Hogwarts was – Sirius had not been specific – it was just past dawn. She fought back a yawn.

Dumbledore, who had been chatting with Giles, glanced over at her unsuccessful efforts to hide her tiredness. He rose from his high-backed chair. 

" There will be ample time to catch up later, Rupert. I am especially looking forward to hearing tales of your time on the Hellmouth. For now, let me show you to your rooms. Leave your belongings, I will have them sent up shortly."

Willow, Xander and Giles followed the Headmaster down a winding staircase and through corridors. Sirius had remained in the Head's office, obviously wanting a private word with Dumbledore. 

They passed the occasional group of students, all of whom looked tired and pale. A few curious stares were sent their way, but mostly the strangers were ignored as the students whispered furiously amongst themselves.

The wizard stopped in front of a large portrait of a knight dressed in full armor, wielding a nasty looking sword. The knight bowed low to the three strangers, the visor of his helmet slipping to cover his eyes.

"Sir Cadogan at your service, Headmaster." Willow thought privately that he looked slightly mad. From Xander's muffled snort, he obviously had the same idea. A furious roar came from the werewolf painting across the hall, a sound that Dumbledore ignored. Willow's thoughts strayed to Oz as she watched the wolf strain to escape the heavy chain that bound it to the portrait.

" The password to enter your rooms is currently 'Sunnydale', however you may decide later to change it to one of your own choice. Rupert, to do this you tap the back of the portrait twice with your wand, speak your new password, then tap once." 

Giles nodded as the door swung open to allow the group entrance. Dumbledore led them into a large central area, decorated lavishly in red and gold. Willow gaped as she scanned the cosy room, which was complete with roaring fireplace and large plush armchairs.

Four tall doors were set into the walls, three of which, Dumbledore explained, were their private sleeping areas. The fourth was a large bathroom which sported a bath the size of a small swimming pool. Too tired to explore their new living quarters, Willow and Xander sank into chairs and listened silently to the Headmaster's various explanations.

"Breakfast will have started in the Great Hall, but if you wish to rest I will have the house elves send your meals when you require them. I have cancelled classes today to give the students a much needed rest after last night's events." 

Willow noticed that Dumbledore didn't say exactly what had happened the night before, but didn't want to pry. The effects of the lemon drop lingered in her system, creating a fuzzy sleepy feeling. 

Dumbledore turned to the two original Scoobies. " I will leave you to rest awhile. You are welcome to explore the grounds if you wish – you might also like to sit in on a few classes during your visit. If you feel rested enough to join us for dinner, I will formally introduce you to the school." 

Checking an odd-looking pocket watch, Dumbledore turned to leave. " I can see you do not want to listen to the ramblings of an old man, and I have much to do today. If you will excuse me, I will leave you to settle in. Sirius will come by this evening to escort you to dinner."

Willow blinked, and the Headmaster had disappeared. Yawning openly, she rose from her chair and headed toward the closest door, Xander following suit. Too tired to notice anything but the bed, Willow kicked off her shoes and climbed fully clothed under the covers. Within a minute, she was asleep.

Giles (who had declined the Head's offer of a lemon drop) was left alone in the room with only his thoughts for company. He couldn't help but think back to Dumbledore's earlier interest in the Hellmouth, and wondered briefly what Buffy would think of Hogwarts were she here with them.

*********************************************************************

Giles had no way of knowing that Buffy was far closer than he thought. The snarling werewolf portrait across the hall had once again been given the job of guarding the petite Gryffindor: even when expanded, every bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing was full. 

Having seen the reaction of the students after the battle, Dumbledore had felt it best to shield the injured Slayer from prying eyes and curious whispers until she had healed enough to be told the truth. 

For now, she had been dosed with copious amounts of Muggle sleeping pills (Dumbledore had a private supply in his office, much to Poppy Pomfrey's bemusement), her wounds doctored and bandaged, and she lay in the same bed she had occupied upon her arrival at Hogwarts, sleeping restlessly.

Unable to be given a potion for dreamless sleep, 'Lily's' thoughts were far away from Hogwarts.

***

I feel the sun-kissed grass crackle beneath my feet as I stretch, moving through a familiar pattern of slow, flowing exercises. It comes as naturally as breathing, and though I can recall the name (t'ai chi), I can't remember who taught me, or why.

If it was up to me, I'd stay here in this sweet-smelling meadow forever, surrounded by flowers and sunshine, feeling my muscles stretch and awaken as though from a long sleep. In the other place, living is hard, and bright, and painful. 

It wasn't always like that – for awhile there, it was nice to play at being someone else.

"You know you gotta go back, B."

It's a familiar voice that echoes through the whispering grass. No matter which way I turn, or how hard I look, I can't see anyone.  Right – that's enough.

" You've got ten seconds to come out before I go all hunt-y on your invisible ass."

I swear I hear a sigh. With a pop, she appears, smirking at me.

"Not one for hide-and-seek, B? You're no fun."

I want to hit her, but I also want to know what she meant. Sometime this century would be helpful – there's this tugging inside that's getting harder to ignore. I think I might have an elsewhere to be.

"That's me, Slayer of Fun." She looks different this time – a little thinner, paler. 

Of course, the last time I saw her in a dream, she was playing hack-n-slash with three innocent people. Which brings me to the question….

"Why should I trust you?" I'm expecting her to come up with some kind of fancy story, or even to avoid the question altogether.

"You shouldn't. Not unless we're here, and you know for sure you're sleeping." She sees my confusion and sighs. Call me crazy, but I swear she starts to blur around the edges. I rub my eyes.

" It's not your eyes, B." 

"What's wrong with you? What do you mean, I shouldn't?" Merlin, if I could just get one straight answer before....what? Before she disappears? 

Her eyes refuse to meet mine for a moment. " I'm not s'posed to say. Just here as messenger girl. Y'know me, B – give clues, get gone." When she does look up, her eyes are troubled. 

I want to say that I don't know her at all. 

"Listen hard, B, coz  I'm only gonna say this once. _You gotta know your past before you can face the future_. Both of 'em are about to be threatened."

There's a long pause as our eyes meet, and I realize that chocolate brown has faded to dull amber. She's disappearing before my eyes. I grip her arm, surprised to find it warm and soft, though I can feel hidden strength under the surface. She's not offering any more clues.

"That's it?" She looks at me strangely.

"Would've thought hearing your loved ones are in danger would be enough darkness for one day."

"No, I mean…that's the whole message? What is this, Zen and the Art of Slayage?" 

The words are out before I have a chance to think. Slayage? What the heck is that? She grins at me, as if I've just won some great cosmic prize.

"You're asking the wrong person, B." She frowns. "Well, you're asking the only other person who'd really know, but I got my orders." I want to ask what's in it for her, coming here.

" You get your puzzle pieces. I get…" Her eyes fill with longing. "I get to be me for just a little while."

I can't help thinking that somehow, the person in front of me is not the one who held the knife, who laughed as blood dripped on the floor. The tugging at the back of my mind is getting more insistent. I don't want to go back.

"You have to. That's what you do, B. You take the hits, you bear the pain.  Someone important upstairs has cast you as the hero in this tale. Those new friends of yours need you - they just haven't figured it out yet. Misdirection, you could say."

I grab her arm again, trying to keep her here for awhile longer. "Wait – I don't know who to ask. Nobody knows who I am. Not even Dumble…" I know I look startled.

With a click, a piece of the puzzle that is my identity falls into place. I've seen Dumbledore look at me many a time, as if he knew something I didn't.  I wonder suddenly what he's been hiding behind those all-seeing eyes.

"Not as blonde as you look, B. Or should I say, _Miss Lily Asher_?"

She's no more than a shadow by now, and I still have questions even as she disappears. Something she's said is sticking in my mind. Without knowing if she's even still here, I call out, my voice echoing in the silence.

"What are you? In the tale, I mean. Seer? Cryptic advice-giver?"

Her reply is a whisper on the sweetly scented wind. " Don't you remember old times, B? I'm the villain of this piece."

She's gone, and all at once the tugging becomes painful, throbbing through my body until I have no choice but to give in and let it pull me back to the place where I am supposedly 'needed'.

*********************************************************************

For the first time since Harry could remember, breakfast was a mostly silent affair. Save for the clinking of cutlery and goblets, the occasional shuffle of feet or hushed whisper, his fellow students seemed loathe to speak out loud, as though hearing their own voices would remind them that this was not a dream.

The black drapes that had replaced the Hogwarts-crested banners on the walls reminded Harry of another innocent life that had been taken in the never-ending war against the darkness: another time almost two years ago when Hogwarts had mourned Cedric Diggory's death. Just thinking his name made Harry's heart tighten.

The many empty places at the House tables, belonging to students injured or dead, seemed to multiply each time Harry raised his eyes from his plate. Silently, he counted off the injured in his mind.

Luna Lovegood. Seamus. Padma Patil. Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. Dennis Creevey. Euan Abercrombie. 

Ginny.

He realized with a jolt that many of the injured had often spoken to him in the corridors – or in the case of the first years, stared at his scar before bolting like scared rabbits – and yet he hadn't bothered to learn their names.

"Harry….don't." 

Startled, he looked across the table at Hermione, who was staring at him sadly. About to ask what she had meant, he thought better of it and looked down at his untouched plate. After seven years he had stopped questioning Hermione's ability to read him like an open book.

"It's *not* your fault. Don't beat yourself up for not being able to save everyone."

" Hermione - when you and Ron…" He found the words stuck painfully in his throat. 

Thankfully, the sound of softly clinking metal saved him from having to finish. Looking up, he saw that Dumbledore had risen from his seat and was tapping his golden goblet for quiet. Harry thought bitterly that the Headmaster needn't have bothered – the silence was already thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's briefly before turning to address the Hall.

"It saddens me greatly that I must stand before you today and speak of those taken before their time. Today, we mourn our friends and fellow students; we berate ourselves for not being faster, wiser, more courageous. We shoulder the blame for recent events without thought for those who truly caused this tragedy."

Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Dumbledore was watching him closely. The Headmaster sighed, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

"You may be asking why this happened. Why did we not predict it? Why did we not stop the merciless taking of innocent lives? Truth be told, we were taken by surprise. Perhaps we might have acted differently in the face of battle, had we recognized our enemy for what he truly is."

At this, Dumbledore looked to Professor McGonagall, who pursed her lips slightly. Whispers were beginning to circulate the Great Hall as students waited for Dumbledore to continue.

" You will forgive an old man's wish to protect his charges from the horrors that lie outside these walls. I see now that my attempt to shelter you was a grievous mistake, one which has cost you dearly. I have once more underestimated the power that is to be gained from knowledge – for it is only when we know our limitations, and in turn the nature of our enemies, that we can fight to protect the things we hold dear. You have earned the right to know the truth – and I assure you I will not lie, though you will forgive my decision to withhold minor details. "

There was complete silence as all eyes watched Dumbledore carefully – even the Slytherins, though Harry sensed most of them already knew what was to come.

" Last night, vampires were sent to attack Hogwarts. It is my belief that they were ordered to search the castle for a hidden weapon that would greatly aid our enemy's cause. Alas, I cannot give details of this supposed weapon, though I will say that it is not dangerous unless controlled by one with intent to use it for harm. I am speaking, of course, of Lord Voldemort."

Many of the students flinched at the name, but Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't noticed.

" The vampires failed in their task. It was through the actions of staff and students that they were destroyed – slain, if you prefer. They did not find what they were looking for."

Harry's attention was diverted to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho Chang's eyes had brightened suspiciously at Dumbledore's last words.

" Madame Pomfrey asked me to inform you that those who were injured are recuperating nicely, and some will be expected in classes as early as tomorrow. She requests that visitors be kept to family and close friends, as the hospital wing is regrettably full."

The Headmaster sighed, his face turning somber.

"I ask you now to raise your goblets in honour of the thirteen students who are no longer with us in body, but who will remain forever with us in spirit. As long as they are remembered, may they never be truly gone." He raised his crystal goblet.

Numb, Harry followed suit, raising his glass along with the rest of the Hall and listening as Dumbledore spoke each name in turn. When the final name had been read, students began to file from the Hall slowly, the Slytherins leading the way. 

Ron stood abruptly. "I'm going to see Ginny." Hermione made as if to follow, but Ron stopped her. " Alone, Hermione." 

They watched him disappear among the crowd, not looking back. Hermione was silent. Harry sighed, not in any mood to be offering comfort. 

" I'm going for a walk." She didn't argue, merely nodded as they moved from the Hall.

" Harry – what did you want to tell me? Before, I mean. "

Harry couldn't meet her eyes. "It was nothing, Hermione. See you later." 

He let himself disappear among the mass of students, avoiding their curious eyes as he headed toward the Quidditch pitch. Flying, he told himself, would let him forget for awhile. 

The words rang false even to his own ears.

*********************************************************************

Draco was one of the first to leave the Great Hall, pointedly ignoring Pansy's shrill voice calling him to walk with her. The last thing he wanted to do was return to the Slytherin common room to endure endless questions and gloating over the amount of damage the vampires had done to the school.

 Brushing past a group of third year Hufflepuffs, he turned in the direction of the Astronomy tower. Checking the hallway for prying eyes, Draco ducked behind a tapestry that hid one of many secret passageways in the school. 

The narrow passage was dark and blessedly silent, the only light a thin beam from his extended wand. As he neared the doorway at the other end, Draco extinguished the light quickly ("_Nox_") before stepping into the corridor. To his dismay, he wasn't alone.

Professor Dumbledore was leaning against the wall, conversing with the portrait opposite him. As Draco turned quickly, intending to go back the way he came, he felt Dumbledore's eyes on the back of his neck. The Headmaster spoke quietly.

" I'd forgotten that passage was still unblocked. How did you gain entrance – the stone statue opposite the Entrance Hall?"

There was nothing to do but answer, then hope he could escape quickly. Draco faced the Headmaster, keeping his face carefully blank.

"No sir, the tapestry of Elmrond the Eager in the Charms corridor." His eyes flicked to the werewolf portrait unconsciously, a movement that didn't escape Dumbledore's notice. 

"You wish to see Miss Asher?" Something told Draco that Dumbledore had known that – that he had been waiting for Draco to appear.

"Yes sir. Only – I don't know the password." It felt odd, talking so politely to a man he'd  been brought up to despise. There was something about the old wizard that made it impossible to be rude. 

Once again, he turned to leave, knowing that the Headmaster was unlikely to just hand him the password.

"The password is Slayer, Draco." To Draco's surprise, the werewolf growled, then the portrait swung aside to reveal a flight of stone steps.

Dumbledore chuckled. "One would think from your expression that you were under the impression you weren't trusted. You could not be further from the truth." He motioned to the entrance. " It is best that you visit first – I doubt Lily will be wanting company after she has heard what I have to say."

Feeling uncomfortable under the Head's piercing gaze, Draco started up the stairs, almost losing his footing in his haste to get away.

Pushing through the tapestry at the top of the stairs, Draco found himself in a warm room, lit discreetly with sunshine that the heavy drapes couldn't keep out. Hovering uncertainly in the doorway, he realized that Lily was sleeping – albeit not peacefully. 

The Gryffindor mystery girl was thrashing in her bed, battered face twisted painfully. His hesitation vanished in an instant as he crossed the room to touch her shoulder gently.

"Asher?"

She whimpered softly, caught in the void between dreams and reality. Draco tried again, more forcefully this time.

"Lily. You're dreaming. Wake – oof!"

Damned if she hadn't hauled off and slapped him hard in the face with her uninjured hand. Draco bit back a string of colourful curses, his cheek smarting from the blow.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" His anger seemed to finally rouse her from sleep. Blinking, she focused on him.

"Oh…sorry."

Draco forgot everything but the sting of his cheek. "It's okay for you to bloody apologise, you're not the one who just got smacked about!" To his surprise, she smiled wearily. 

" Well, if you're gonna get technical…" She touched her face lightly, wincing as she felt the fading bruises. 

The bandages covering her fractured hand had unraveled in the night, one end trailing in the bedcovers. Draco watched as she pulled them off slowly and flexed her hand, frowning. Her eyes locked on his suspiciously.

"Why are you here? Thought you'd be hiding from Big Bad Lily in your common room like a good little snake." The hurt behind the words was only a glimmer in her hazel eyes.

 He doubted he'd have picked it up at all, had he not been the master of hiding what he truly thought for much of his life. Deciding to answer her sarcasm with his own special brand, he perched on the end of her bed.

"Asher, you should know by now I'm not the hiding type. Is it so unbelievable that I might want to see how you're feeling? Or do you just lash out at people regularly?" Another thought occurred to him. "And do tell me why I should be afraid of you."

She picked at the bedspread, not meeting his gaze. " Everybody else is." 

Draco had a feeling she wasn't talking about the school in general, but he didn't want to be the one to bring up those three individuals just yet. He forced a snort.

"Since when have I pandered to the pathetic opinions of the rest of the prats in this school? Nobody *told* me to come play nursemaid." He had a fleeting vision of himself in a French maid's uniform, plumping her pillows, and changed the subject quickly.

"Now, are you intending to continue dodging my question, or are you going to tell me how you feel?"

"Like I took on a whole bunch of evil undead and got beaten to a pulp. Imagine that." She didn't manage to hide her face quickly enough, giving Draco a clear glimpse of her sorrow and frustration . He leaned toward her, all pretence of sarcasm gone.

"If it helps, I think you were bloody brilliant. The rest of 'em will come around soon enough, maybe even be grateful that you saved their sorry hides." 

Lily stared at him for a long time before she spoke.

"You really didn't know, did you?"

"Come again?"

"About the vampires. The other Slytherins got the heads-up – ordered room service, had a pajama party, whatever. But you had no idea what was coming."

Draco had to force himself to answer. The betrayal – though not entirely uncharacteristic of his father – still smarted more than he'd like to admit.

" Do you think I would have been there if I'd known?"

Lily tilted her head thoughtfully, and he found he didn't want to hear her answer. 

He didn't want to hear her condemn him for something he would have done without question mere days ago.

"Would you have had a choice?"

Not for the first time, he was startled by her intelligence. The eyes that stared back at him seemed far too wise to belong in her young face. 

" No." As he spoke, he contemplated the stupidity of his words. " How could I explain leaving my house to fight against the people I'm supposedly supporting? I didn't get told shit. They weren't expecting me to fight. _*That*_ was my choice."

His answer echoed in the silence that had descended. Draco finished the sentence in his head.

_^He left me there to die.^_

Lily sighed, shifting against her pillows. "Look at us, the pity party." Her eyes drifted to the tapestry-door. "Guess Dumbledore's waiting for me to wake up so he can ship me out."

 Draco came back to reality with a jolt. 

"That's crap, Asher."

"Is it, *_Malfoy*_? The whole school thinks I'm some kind of dangerous creature. Even the staff couldn't look me in the eye after…."

Draco cut her off, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "What kind of soddin' reason is that? Dumbledore might be a few Knuts short of a Galleon, granted, but he's not deranged. If anyone knows who you were once upon a time, it'll be Dum – hey!"

Lily had tossed the covers aside and eased herself out of bed before Draco had a chance to finish. Leaning heavily on her good leg, she began to hobble toward the door as Draco sat open-mouthed. He came to his senses as he watched her struggle with the tapestry while trying to keep weight off her injured knee.

"Asher! What the bloody hell are you doing?" She turned, her face set in determination. He had a suspicion he already knew where she was going, but he  wanted it confirmed. 

"Getting answers." 

Obviously, reasoning with her to stay in bed was no good. Draco sighed and moved to help her. Lily stared at him. He pulled the tapestry aside and looked pointedly at the steep stairs.

"You've got talents, Asher, but I doubt flying is one of them. Are you intending to crawl down the stairs?" 

The flight was barely wide enough for one person, let alone two. Sizing Lily up, Draco made a quick decision and lifted her in his arms, starting down the stairs as fast as he could. He ignored her struggling.

"Asher, if you slap me again I'll drop you on your diminutive arse and let you roll down. Quit squirming already."

Setting her down at the bottom of the stairs, he watched as she pushed the portrait open and stepped into the corridor. Draco stayed in the dark space, listening as Lily's voice echoed through the crack in the portrait door.

After all, there was no need to announce his presence to the Headmaster just yet. Just because he'd recently had a slight change of heart didn't mean he was about to call attention to the fact that it had been *his* words that sparked this particular confrontation.

*********************************************************************

Giles awoke with a start at the sound of voices in the outside corridor. 

Despite his attempts to stay awake, he found he had dozed off in the living area of their rooms. His head rested uncomfortably on a musty-smelling text, the ink of which had blurred slightly from the heat of his face. 

Willow and Xander were apparently still sound asleep, both doors remaining closed even as one of the voices rose to fever pitch. Searching for his glasses, Giles blinked in the pale sunlight pouring into the room, absentmindedly wondering who was shouting, and why they had to do it right outside his door.

He listened closely to the muffled words, curiosity overcoming his need for sleep. The words became clear as he moved toward the door, pushing the portrait open a crack. 

" I assure you, had I been able to tell you, I would have done so without hesitation. I thought it best to allow you to find your feet before I burdened you with the knowledge of who you are – and where you came from. Forgive me for thinking you fragile when you first arrived – I did not wish to add to your troubles."

Giles recognized the voice as Dumbledore's, speaking in his usual calm manner. His placating words continued after a pause.

" At the time, I believed it to be best. Tell me, could you have formed the bonds that you have, knowing that you were forced to lie?"

There was silence for a moment, then – " Guess we'll never know, huh? I freaked everyone out with my Xena impersonation last night. I'd say the 'bonds' – and I use sarcastic quote marks – are pretty much a non-issue."

Giles found he couldn't breathe. The voice that had answered Dumbledore was quiet and achingly familiar. His heart seemed to stop at the sound of the distinctive inflections and speech pattern, slightly altered by a hint of an English accent.

The argument continued as memories rushed into his mind with a vengeance, drowning out everything but that voice, echoing in his mind. Forgetting everything around him, Giles pushed through the back of the portrait forcefully, sending the knight slamming against the wall.

"I say, that's no way to treat a - "

Giles ignored Sir Cadogan's outraged protests as he stood stunned at the scene before him. Neither figure had turned at his entrance, though he was certain Dumbledore knew he was there. 

His suspicion was confirmed instantly as the Headmaster looked at him with unreadable eyes.

"Rupert." 

He seemed to sense that whatever else he said, Giles would not hear. Giles was staring at Buffy, who felt the eyes on her back and turned slowly, her face curious. 

His Slayer – his Buffy – was alive, standing in front of him, breathing and whole. Giles felt his knees give out at the sight of her. Despite himself, he staggered forward, wanting to touch her, to confirm that he wasn't going insane.

She was there in an instant, her deceptively strong hands gripping his arm and keeping him upright. Unable to shift his gaze for fear she might vanish, Giles continued to stare.

"B-Buffy? Y-you're here – you're alive….H-how?" 

Overcome with emotion, he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. He felt her muscles coil in his embrace, and an instant later she pushed him away gently, confusion plain on her face. Giles felt his heart sink as she looked to Dumbledore uncertainly, limping backwards toward the Headmaster. 

It was only then that he noticed the difference in her appearance. Instead of the weariness he had seen so often since her mother's death, her face was undeniably younger; less pinched and no longer permanently set in the make-the-world-go-away expression he had come to accept – though regretfully – over the last year.

Buffy looked exactly as she had in high school – before she had been forced to run a sword through Angel's heart to save the world. 

"Giles? What's going on? I heard shouti…." 

Xander, apparently awakened by the noise, had come to investigate. His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Buffy standing apprehensively beside the Headmaster. Her eyes were darting skittishly from Giles to the new face. 

Before Giles could warn him, Xander had rushed forward and thrown his arms around Buffy. This time, she wasn't quite so gentle, pushing him away with near full Slayer strength. Xander landed ungracefully on his rear on the hard floor, more than a little surprised.

"Xander? Did you find him?" Willow peered at the group from the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her sudden rush toward Buffy was stopped by Dumbledore, who stepped forward and held up a hand. Willow halted abruptly, her eyes bright with tears. 

"Giles? What….Buffy….is here? Am I dreaming – coz I have dreams like this all the time but never…." Dumbledore cut her off mid-babble.

" I suggest we move to more comfortable quarters before we continue this discussion. I for one could use a cup of tea and perhaps you would like some breakfast?" 

He looked behind him at the snarling werewolf. "Mister Malfoy, perhaps you could go to the kitchens and ask the house-elves to send up some refreshments?"

A boy with white-blonde hair stepped from behind the portrait, blue eyes wide. Obviously a student, his robes bore the Slytherin emblem. He moved to stand beside Buffy, silently offering his support.

Willow forgot her shock and began to babble, pointing at Draco. " Does Spike know he has a mini-him at Hogwarts? Giles, I thought vampires couldn't have children…"

Draco looked insulted. " Hey! I'm not a vampire." He looked as though he was about to continue, but he was cut off by a soft voice.

"Drake. Just – don't, okay? I'm sure um…" Buffy looked at the strangers, uncertain.

"Willow." The redhead supplied automatically, looking confused at this new turn of events. Buffy didn't know her name? 

Buffy flashed her a tentative smile before continuing. "I'm sure Willow didn't mean what she said. She's just…confused. C'mon – I'll come to the kitchens with you." 

Her eyes were begging him to go quietly – to give her an excuse to escape the corridor and the strangers who knew her name. The unlikely pair disappeared quickly, Draco supporting Buffy as she limped away silently.

Four pairs of eyes watched them until they had vanished from sight. Giles looked to Dumbledore, who sighed before meeting his eyes.

"It would appear I have some explaining to do."

*********************************************************************

A/N: I just broke my record with this 27 page marathon chapter. I'm really quite tired. : )

Next chapter: Dumbledore gives some much needed explanations, Buffy faces the school (and three individuals in particular), Sirius has a little man-to-man chat with Harry….and our amnesiac Slayer regains her memory – though not in the way you're thinking.

Please review!!


	18. Ad Astra per Aspera

A/N: Apologies for the posting, then un-posting, then posting again of this chapter. I'll go on record and say it was the hardest to write, mainly due to the obscene amount of explanations that are long overdue and *extremely* important to the direction of the story. Also, because it's been a long time since I updated. Hope I didn't make anyone too mad. : )

Those of you who've been following my little tale for awhile may notice a few differences in the story. The most obvious is that to the Hogwarts community, and to Buffy herself, she is now known as Lily Asher. However, to the Scoobs, she's still Buffy. I've tried to minimize confusion as much as possible. If you're very, very lost, I'd suggest you go back and read Chapter 2 (the revised version) – that's pretty much where it all goes down. Some other stuff has been bulked up, or toned down, or even deleted altogether, following the advice of CinnamonGrrl about where I went horribly wrong.

I'm not trying to confuse anyone on purpose. If anyone is confused, or has specific questions, feel free to email me and I'll answer whatever I can (without giving anything away).

This chapter is dedicated to the ever-helpful CinnamonGrrl, who kindly offered to beta for me when mine went AWOL, and who turned out to be the most honest and thoughtful critiquer (is that a word?) ever. Can't thank you enough, grrl. : )

Warning: My muse has channeled Marti Noxon and there are Season 6-style anvils dropping everywhere. Wear a helmet.

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**Chapter 18: Ad Astra per Aspera**

**(A rough road leads to the stars)**

_#Hogwarts#_

Lily headed for the kitchens as fast as her injuries would allow, ignoring the dull throb of pain that had begun to work its way through her still-healing body. Draco followed slightly behind, keeping an eye out for stray students and glaring fiercely at those he saw. As the unlikely pair passed, students shrank back in fear of the slight blonde Gryffindor, not particularly wanting to draw her attention lest she attack them as she had the vampires.

Lily, oblivious to their reactions, continued to limp blindly through the corridors without any clear idea of where she was. The only clear thought in her mind was putting as much distance between herself and the strangers as possible. So caught up in her confusion, Lily didn't feel Draco close the gap between them until he had grabbed a handful of black robe and pulled her to an unwilling halt. 

Had the circumstances been different, she would have laughed in surprise at the look of concern on his face. As it was, she only stared blankly at him, her eyes brimming with bewildered tears.

"Asher – you don't have a bloody clue where you're going. I don't fancy a jog around Hogwarts today, so if you don't mind -" 

His sarcastic remarks caught in his throat as she deflated before him like a dampened Filibusters firework. Mindful of the group of Hufflepuffs cowering nearby, he pulled her through the nearest door. A nice, quiet classroom – away from prying eyes – was as good a place as any for Lily to collect herself before they continued to the kitchens.

The space was dark, uncomfortably small…and smelt of stale Dung Bombs and mouldy wet cloth. Draco pulled out his wand. "Lumos." His wand tip began to glow softly, revealing shelves and brooms and what looked horribly like a dead rat.

_Bloody brilliant._

Of all the places they could have taken shelter in, he just *_had_* to go and pick a sodding supply closet. Outside the door, there was the distinct sound of whispering. It appeared they had stopped in the corridor to chat about…whatever Hufflepuffs chatted about.

"Draco….why are we in here?" Lily's voice was quiet and confused.

He tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench. "Well, Asher, unless you're in a great hurry to get back to Dumbledore and his band of Yankees…." Draco let his words sink in, knowing that there was nothing Lily would *rather* do than stay far away from that part of the school. 

The Hufflepuffs had apparently passed by, and not a moment too soon – the smell was becoming unbearable. Draco tried the door, turning the handle sharply to the left.

There was a dull click, and the handle refused to turn another inch. Breathing in suddenly, Draco was rewarded with a fresh wave of dead rat.

"Hey, Super-Strength…give us a hand? Door's jammed."

Lily obliged, pulling at the handle in vain. She turned to Draco, her voice flat as she said, "Door's _locked_, Drake."

If there had been room to pace, Draco would have. He muttered a stream of colorful curses between deep breaths, kicking at the heavy wood in frustration. Lily appeared to forget her earlier worries at the sight of the great Draco Malfoy looking decidedly green around the gills. Her muffled giggle was rewarded with a glare.

"Oh, I'm so glad you think being locked in this stinking hell-hole is bloody amusing, Asher." Clearly, he wasn't a fan of confined spaces. 

Pushing him gently aside, Lily began her own assault on the door. The wood didn't even begin to dent under her stream of blows. Conveniently forgetting that he himself had only just finished using violence, he rolled his eyes at her ineffective attempt.

_*Muggles. Always insisting on doing things the hard way.*_

Moving to the opposite side of the tiny cupboard, Lily braced herself, not noticing that Draco had pulled his wand from his robe and was studying the doorknob carefully. Closing her eyes, Lily crossed the short distance quickly, her shoulder poised for the blow. At the same time, Draco straightened and tapped the doorknob with his wand.

"_Alohomora__!"_

The lock clicked open, just as Lily hurled herself at the door. Her shoulder collided with the back of Draco's neck as he turned the handle, sending him sprawling ungracefully on his back into the corridor. Lily stood stunned for a moment before rushing over to where Draco lay rubbing his neck. 

" You okay Drake?" 

Draco felt, rather than saw her drop to her knees beside him. It wasn't too difficult to smother a grin, considering there was a throbbing, elbow-sized indent in the back of his neck. Revenge was almost too easy. Draco reached up and grasped Lily by the shoulders, clumsily flipping her over and attempting to pin her to the ground. Within seconds he found their positions reversed, the small Gryffindor sitting triumphantly atop him. Lily smirked, leaning closer.

"Not exactly wrassling with a meek little girly-girl here, Drake."

Draco just stared at her. "I'm beginning to - "

"What the hell is going on here?" 

_The fun just kept on coming,_ Draco thought sourly, looking up at Ron Weasley. He snorted at the look of disgust on the Gryffindor's face. Lily climbed off him and backed away slightly

"What's the matter, Weasel – Potter not putting out?" 

Ron's face went an even deeper shade of red as he surveyed the scene. Lily was staring at the floor silently, her hair ruffled and her cheeks pink. Malfoy, on the other hand, was looking decidedly angry.

" Nice to know that you don't waste any time jumping on the first Dark Wizard that comes along, Lily. Or was Harry just a decoy – y'know, shack up with Malfoy and then play all innocent and fragile with Harry for cover? Remember Harry? You should – you were sent here to mess with his mind, after all."

Draco jumped in before Lily could respond. "Nice to know you're still just as good at jumping to conclusions, Weasel. Searching the corridors in hope of finding a spare Sickle or two?"

Ron's face had progressed from scarlet to purple, one hand clutching his battered wand with such force Draco expected it to snap any second. 

"I was visiting Ginny, Ferret-boy." He turned his anger on Lily, who flinched. " My sister, y'know – she got hurt in your Master's vampire attack. She's still unconscious. Not that you give two shits about the people who got hurt, or killed. You probably pointed the vampires in her direction."

"Weasel, bugger off, will you? Here, add this to your money-box."

Reaching into his pocket, Draco tossed a handful of Knuts at the enraged Gryffindor before rising to his feet and drawing his wand. Draco opened his mouth to let fly a stream of hexes, only to be interrupted.

"Drake, Ron – don't." Both boys were startled by Lily's soft voice. She had climbed to her feet, her bruised face tear-streaked and distressed. Draco lowered his wand, glaring at Ron. His voice dripped venom.

" You're not worth the effort, Weasel." He turned away, stalking from the scene. 

Lily looked at Ron from behind a film of bitter tears. It didn't matter what she said – she could recite poetry or the twenty-seven uses of dragon's blood for all he cared. He would still see her as a murderer – and worse, as someone who had betrayed him and his dearest friends. The hopelessness of her situation struck Lily at that point, leaving her fighting to control the sobs that threatened to shake her body. 

"R-Ron, I…."

Ron just looked at her coldly, seemingly impassive to her obvious anguish.

"I've heard enough. You're not welcome in Gryffindor House – not with me, not with Harry, not with Hermione. We don't know you; we don't care what you do or where you go. Stay away from us, Slayer."

Lily watched as he turned and strode away without another word. His words had sent a shock like ice through her veins, drying her tears instantly and leaving her numb.

Draco had returned in time to hear Ron's parting shot. He sighed, touching her shoulder gently. "Asher – as much as I hate to admit it, Weas- Ron's most likely not thinking clearly. Don't pay any attention to what he said. It's all pure rubbish when it comes down to it."

Lily's mind had cleared, leaving her empty save for one thought. " He's right." Her voice was almost too quiet for Draco to make out the words. Avoiding his gaze, she continued, realization dawning like a slap in the face. "I don't belong here. I…I shouldn't have stayed. I put everyone in danger just by…just by being here." She turned her eyes to Draco, who was chilled by the emptiness of her gaze.

 Draco had never had a stronger urge to curse Ron Weasley in all of his six years at Hogwarts. Right now, the Gryffindor was probably filling his little friends in on the scene he *thought* he'd witnessed, not thinking for a moment of the damage he'd so thoughtlessly caused. It was his final words that had effortlessly reduced Lily – once so annoyingly cheerful and collected – to the broken and hurting figure that was pleading with him to let her go, to turn a blind eye while she fled.

There were two things that Draco Malfoy could not stand: confined spaces, and cowardice. For both, he blamed his inner Lucius – he could practically hear his 'father' droning in his mind.

_Only fools run from their destiny, son. It would be foolish to flee from something that is quite capable of finding you – and furthermore destroying you. Far better to accept that this is what you were *born* for_.

Granted, this was undeniably Lucius's way of telling his son that should he decide to go against his fathers wishes, he would be hunted down and tortured. Nevertheless, in Draco's mind, running away was *not* on the list of options. Ignoring another nagging thought – that perhaps Lily was quite entitled to run after all that had happened – he poured as much sarcasm as he could into his words.

" Never picked you for a coward, Asher." 

His hand gripped Lily's shoulder tightly as he forced her to look at him, knowing full well that she could swat him to the floor without even raising her heartbeat, should she wish to. He was slightly relieved to see something flickered behind those achingly deadened eyes.

"It's better for everyone if I'm just… someplace that's…  away."

"Right. So you're quite happy, then, to let everyone here think you're working for Voldemort? It doesn't bother you at all that you'll prove Weasel right – that you're nothing more than a murderer?"

"I'm not…." Draco didn't let her finish.

"You're not a Death Eater? I bloody well know that, Asher. Met most of 'em – hell, I was to be next in line for compulsive tattooing as soon as I hit 18. This lot," Draco indicated the school with a wave, "won't get it. They practically crap their pants at the sound of Voldemort's name. They're even less good with things they don't understand – it took Potter skewering a Basilisk and saving  Mini-Weasel's hide from Tom Riddle for them to get over their delusions of him being the Heir of Slytherin."

The explanation was necessary, but Draco could have hexed himself for mentioning Harry Potter. Still, he supposed any reaction was better than the emptiness in Lily's eyes. Provided no violence was involved, that is.

" I can't….I can't go on not knowing who – _what _– I am, Draco."

"So I can add 'bloody idiot' to that list, then." He sighed in exasperation. " You think you're likely to find the answers you need when you're being hunted down by the Ministry of Magic – or, a less enticing option, by Voldemort himself? I don't have a sodding clue who those Americans are, but they certainly seemed to know you. Isn't that enough?" 

Lily didn't respond, but she at least seemed to be thinking over what Draco had said. 

"You know, if you were that hell-bent on leaving, you'd be gone by now. Course, you'll have to get past me first."

In hindsight, it wasn't exactly the smartest thing he could have said. 

Lily looked at him levelly for a moment, shrugging his hand from her shoulder. He barely had time to react before her fist had connected with his jaw and he went down like a sack of newly-stunned Cornish pixies. Her whispered apology was the last thing to reach his ears before she turned and disappeared.

*********************************************************************

Willow was clearly nervous.

"….and what is Angel gonna say when he sees Buffy, do you think he'll be all happy – well hopefully not *too* happy coz then comes the 'grr' factor and I lost the Orb of Thesula when I moved into the dorms so no re-cursing can happen….and Dawn; little Dawnie, she'll be so happy that Buffy is coming home again, I can't wait to tell her and Tara and everyone…."

"Wills….."

"….it must have been the shock that made her forget us, once she's back in Sunnydale she'll remember everything…"

"I don't think it's quite that simple, Willow." Giles cut her off mid-stream, looking to Dumbledore for confirmation. At the Headmaster's somber nod, Willow sank into an armchair, slightly out of breath. Xander squeezed her hand silently, waiting for Dumbledore to begin.

" I understand how you must feel, Willow, seeing Miss Summers when you believed she was forever lost to you. However, there are some things we must discuss before we progress any further."

Giles closed his eyes briefly at the look on Dumbledore's face. Something inside had been telling him it wasn't quite as simple as finding Buffy and returning with her to Sunnydale – after all, never before had they been allowed any small miracle without first fighting for it.

" You must understand that Buffy has been greatly changed. Even I cannot begin to fathom the effects of the portal that brought her to Hogwarts. It has given her magical abilities beyond those normally instilled in a Slayer."

"Buffy can do magic? Buffy can't even float a pencil!" Willow's eyes were wide.

" Your magic and ours are quite different, Willow. You will notice, should you spend any time with the students here, that they use incantations for tasks that you could quite easily perform with a single concentrated thought. But I digress."

Setting his wand on a side-table, Dumbledore glanced toward Giles.

"I suppose it is misrepresentation to call a Slayer's power 'magic'. The Slayer is not capable of drawing on her own power to perform spells. In the wizarding world, the Slayer is classed as a magical creature rather than a witch. Her magic is sufficiently different to ours to warrant such a classification."

Blank faces stared back at him. Patiently, Dumbledore changed tack.

" Think of magic as water, if it helps. Water is found in more than one form. First, there is the original source, the purest form. We draw it from outside our beings to survive. Wiccan magic is similar to water – you access an external source to gain your power."

"Next, we have steam. Without an object to channel the steam – let us say, a teakettle – it dissipates into the atmosphere. A wand is the wizard's teakettle – it provides an outlet for focusing the magic. A Slayer's power, therefore, is ice – a block of solid power, if you will – that is only capable of performing one task: in this case, providing the powers of the Slayer."

" Wills, I hope you absorbed all that, coz I'll be picking your brain later." Xander whispered, one eye on Dumbledore. Willow was struggling to make sense of what they'd just been told

"I think I get it. But – did Glory's portal kinda… change Buffy's magic? That means she isn't the Slayer anymore."

"Buffy is still the Slayer, as she demonstrated last night. She is the first Slayer in centuries to also possess wizarding abilities."

This meant nothing to Willow and Xander, though it seemed to mean quite a lot to Giles, who almost fell out of his chair.

"Prof – Albus, does the Ministry know this?"

Xander rubbed his forehead in confusion. "Wizards are an even bigger secret than the Slayer, but you told the politicians? Is the Queen a witch?"

Dumbledore chuckled, merriment dancing in his eyes. "I doubt that, Xander, though there has been much speculation over Prince Charles being a descendant of a house-elf. His ears are rather large, you know. Rupert was referring to the Ministry of Magic, and no; I saw no reason to inform them."

"Wouldn't it make things easy for them, having a Slayer around to slay…whatever demons you have here?"

"Quite the opposite. The Slayer is on the 'Dangerous Magical Creatures' list as far as the Ministry is concerned. Wizards are forbidden to have contact with both the Watcher's Council and the Slayer. Buffy would be in great danger if the Ministry were involved."

Willow piped up, waving her hands dismissively. "Once Buffy gets back to Sunnydale, she won't have to worry about the Ministry, so no biggie. Are we done here, coz I have to call Tara and tell her." 

There was silence as Giles stared at Willow incredulously. Dumbledore sighed slowly, knowing this was inevitable.

"This is not for me to decide, Willow. It will be Buffy's decision whether she wishes to return to Sunnydale or not."

"Of course Buffy is coming back with us…Sunnydale's her home! Why would she stay here when all her friends are there? We've missed her so much…" Willow's voice trailed off at the look on Giles's face.

As gently as possible, Dumbledore spoke. " Buffy's journey through the portal did more than simply give her magic. The energies have literally turned back her biological clock by a number of years. Four years, to be specific. There is also - " 

" Sixteen or twenty, Buffy still has family, and friends, and a *life* in Sunnydale – you can't make her stay here! She's the Slayer!"

Willow was frustrated and angry, her eyes fairly crackling with magic. The sight made Dumbledore's breath catch in his throat. Still, they needed to know. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by Xander. 

" She doesn't know that." His eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, but his words were meant for Willow. Catching the look of surprise on the wizard's face, Xander sighed; turning to Willow who was watching open-mouthed.

" Who woulda thunk it…. zeppo-guy having an insight-y moment. You do your spells, Buffy kicks the ass and takes the names. Me? I eat bugs, attract demons like a magnet and get knocked out a whole lot…" 

He paused. "Actually, I think that title goes to G-Man over there. *So* not the point though." Shifting in his chair, Xander continued. 

"You and Buff are my best buddies. So here's the slightly creepy thing: I watch you all the time. I know you. I know Buffy. And the welcome we got tonight wasn't exactly brimming with warm – I have a bruise on my butt to prove it. Wanna see?"

He was putting off the inevitable, trying to lighten the mood and failing.

" She didn't recognize us – hell, she got wigged when she was rushed by a group of complete strangers. Wills, you know this stuff. You just don't want to admit it."

Dumbledore waited until Willow's eyes had returned to their normal green before speaking. " Imagine for a moment you are walking in Buffy's shoes. She arrived here not even knowing her own name, let alone where she had come from or what she was. She is known to staff and students alike as Lily Asher. Indeed, she has come to think of *herself* as Lily. Buffy has made friends at Hogwarts, shown quite a talent for magic – one which she has worked hard to develop – and regained her love for life."

The wizard seemed to battle with himself before continuing. " Last night, vampires attacked Hogwarts. You would have been proud of the way Buffy fought to save innocent lives, at great personal cost. She chose to fight because being the Slayer is something she cannot deny, whether she knows the extent of her power or not."

A tiny smile lifted the corner of Giles's lips briefly. " That's Buffy for you, Albus."

"Indeed. The past months have not been easy: Buffy has struggled to find answers that I, unfortunately, have not been able to give her. It was not Their intention for Buffy to remember her past existence – They wished for her to begin afresh, to absorb what she could without sparing a thought for all she'd left behind. It appears that once again, They have underestimated exactly who they are dealing with."

Willow and Xander tensed as Giles snarled in anger. "If those pillocks from the  Council had *_anything_* to do with this…."

"The Watcher's Council do not have the power to perform such a task. The force that is responsible for this – I believe your Los Angeles friends know them as the Powers that Be?" Their silence was all the answer Dumbledore needed. The phrase had triggered a memory in Willow's mind, something Buffy had told her years ago.

^_ "A higher power guiding us?"^_

" For many years, the wizarding world has lived in fear of Voldemort regaining power and waging a terrible war on wizards and Muggles alike. A prophecy was created long ago, foretelling of a sacrifice which marks the beginning of said war."

Recognition flared on cue in the three listeners. Giles was the first to connect the dots.

"The Kalvros Prophecy. Tom Riddle – Voldemort – is the Puzzle of Dark."

 " Correct, Rupert. On the eve of Buffy's death, this prophecy became a reality. Voldemort has been quietly gathering supporters, waiting for the foretold events to occur – for the barriers to weaken around the thing he desires most of all. The Key – or the Hellmouth. Possession of one is a prize, but having both is catastrophic."

"So why didn't –"

" Why didn't the Powers that Be return Buffy to Sunnydale to protect both the Hellmouth and the Key? Sirius tells me you have been studying the Kalvros Prophecy. In fact, you came here hoping to find answers."

"Looks like we picked the right person to ask. Who better to give us the low-down on a prophecy than a –" Xander's eyes widened as realization set in. " A prophet-guy. *You're* the Prophet." It was evident he was struggling to keep pace with his thoughts. " And the Prophet has to protect the, um Torch Bearer-"

"The Bringer of Light, Xander."

"That's what I said. Work with me here, G-man. So, you've kinda been hiding Buffy, which is the same as protecting, which means…"

"Buffy is this Bringer." Willow cut in. Xander's face fell slightly. " Sorry for wrecking your exposition fun, Xand. Are we talking like, First Evil Bringer here, coz I didn't think those guys had branched out beyond your basic hack-n-slash, with a bit of chanting as a bonus. I mean, Buffy had the black cloak thing down, but she still had her eyes and stuff…."

" *This* is your way of getting to the point? Verbal diarrhea?"

"Ms Rosenberg – Mr Harris. If I may interrupt?" Both Scoobies closed their mouths with an audible snap. " The Kalvros prophecy was created millenniums ago. Your Powers have been searching for a suitable Bringer of Light for as long as the Slayer has existed. Many of the Chosen die in battle – it is rather rare for a Slayer to give her life. I have very little idea why Buffy in particular was chosen by the Powers."

"So why the cryptic – couldn't the PtB have just sent Buffy a letter saying what they wanted?"

" For the prophecy to be properly fulfilled, the Slayer must form an unshakeable bond with four particular Hogwarts students. I assume that the Powers believed this could best be achieved if Buffy became a student at the school. They circumvented the two major barriers preventing this – they used the energies of the portal to both change Buffy's age, and to give her the necessary magical abilities. Severing the ties that bound Buffy to her former life – her memories – allowed her to start afresh without the burden of being the Slayer on her mind. You cannot deny that her years as the Slayer have come at a great cost to Buffy."

Willow was silent. For years they had been forced to watch as Buffy edged further away from the group, the nightly battles stealing piece after piece of her spirit. 

It had begun long ago – the night Buffy learned she had cost Angel his soul. The cloud hanging over her head had grown heavier with each death, until the storm finally broke the night Buffy had been forced to drive her sword through Angel's chest. Willow had stood by helplessly as the laughter and life had disappeared slowly from her friend's eyes, until the final tether holding Buffy to them had faded with the dying heartbeat of her mother.

She could see in Dumbledore's eyes that he knew this, and suddenly her anger melted away, leaving only a heaviness in her chest that left Willow gasping for breath. How could they ask Buffy to return to a life that had cost her so dearly?

"So what do we do now? Go back to Sunnydale, pretend that we never saw Buffy?"

"On the contrary, Willow. If you can spare the time away from the Hellmouth, I invite you to remain here for awhile. Buffy will need her friends close by."

Xander looked disbelievingly at the wizard. "One minor flaw in your wacky English logic – Buffy doesn't know we're her friends." He paused. "Never thought I'd actually say that. Plus, doesn't she *have* friends?"

" She does. However, they do not know Buffy like you do, for despite their best attempts to find out who she was before Hogwarts, they know nothing of her capabilities – nor her past." Dumbledore's eyes were shadowed for a moment.

 "There are only six people at Hogwarts that truly know who Buffy is. Four of them are in this room. One, I believe, is currently in his private quarters in the Hogwarts dungeons. Severus knows only that Buffy is the Slayer, nothing more. The other –Sirius – knows only what he has overheard from you. He is…" Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, concentrating. 

" Sirius is heading toward the Gryffindor common room. Dobby!"

The Sunnydale trio jumped slightly at Dumbledore's raised voice. Xander leaned close to Giles.

"What's a Dobby? Is that some kind of wizard swear?" Giles just shrugged.

With a pop, a small, bat-eared creature appeared in front of the chairs. Clothed in an enormous maroon jumper and two mismatched socks, it looked around with large green eyes until it spied Dumbledore. With an expression so comical Xander wanted to laugh, the creature bowed its head slightly, ears flapping vigorously.

"What can Dobby do for the great Professor today, sir? You is wanting tea, perhaps, for you and your guests?"

"Dobby, have Miss Sum – Miss Asher and Mister Malfoy arrived in the kitchens yet?"

Dobby looked puzzled. " You is speaking of Miss Lily, sir? Dobby has not seen Miss Lily today. Mister-" he choked on the name, " *he* is not coming either."

The Headmaster adjusted his glasses, frowning slightly. "Thank you, Dobby. If you see either of them, would you come here and let me know please?"

Dobby nodded emphatically. To everyone's surprise, he let out a piercing shriek and hid his face in his long-fingered hands, one finger briefly pointing to the door.

" Dobby's old master's son is here, Professor Dumbledore. He is looking most angry, like he is being violent to Dobby. Dobby does not want to be attacked, sir."

The frightened house-elf disappeared with a 'pop' as all heads turned to the doorway. Malfoy was standing there, rubbing his bruised jaw and looking most disgruntled. Buffy was nowhere to be seen.

" Professor – Lily got all worked up, introduced her fist to my jaw, and when I woke up she'd disappeared. She was spouting crap about being a danger to people – I reckon she's trying to do a runner." 

Dumbledore was on his feet before Malfoy had finished, hurrying out the door without a word of explanation. Draco was left staring at the three strangers who had been the cause of Lily's distress.

Xander stood, digging through one of the bags in the room and producing a nasty looking two-headed axe. Draco backed away, holding up his hands as if to shield his person from further damage.

"No need to get violent. It's not like I could've stopped Super-Strength from having her way with me." It took a moment for him to realize what he'd said. " Not in the way you're thinking. There was no having of anything, really."

The redhead who'd earlier called him a vampire stepped forward. " Breathe, Mini-Spike. We don't do flaying – it's icky."

"I'm supposed to find that comforting, Red?" She stared at him. "For Merlin's sake, stop *staring* at me like I'm a bloody ghost."

He was certain he heard her mutter something about 'ghost of neutered vampires past'. The older man spoke up, sounding surprisingly English.

" Which way did Buffy – er, Lily – go?"

Draco looked at him as if he were mad. " Can't say really, on account of my being unconscious. S'not like I waved goodbye as she left. Hey!" All three were now armed with various weapons and heading his way. "There's really no need to…"

A polished sword was tossed his way. Draco caught it by the hilt with the tips of his fingers and turned as the Americans brushed past him. Red called back over her shoulder.

" Hey, Mini-Spike. Grab your wand and let's go!" He hurried to catch up, leading the way through the maze of hallways. Nobody spoke, but the air was fairly humming with the familiar tension of battle preparation. Red turned to him.

"Willow." He blinked. Why was she talking about trees, of all things? She rolled her eyes, a gesture that was *so* Lily it made him grin. Oh yeah, there was no doubt about who these people were.

"It's my name. Willow." She pointed to each of the two men in turn. "Xander. Giles. You?" Draco blinked. She wanted to know his name?

"Well, unless you wanna be dubbed Mini-Spike forever…" 

"Draco. Draco Malfoy. What are we doing?" Was it his imagination, or did the man named Giles tense at his name? Bloody brilliant – he'd known them for a total of five minutes and already his father's reputation was getting in the way.

Willow raised an eyebrow. " Finding B - Lily. We don't bring out the weaponry for casual strolls, y'know." 

Despite her light tone, Draco could see something shadow her eyes at the mention of Lily's name. She seemed determined to hide it from him, and he had no real desire to argue with someone who was gripping a nasty-looking crossbow and looking horribly like a certain stubborn fifth year Gryffindor. Speaking of which…

" You're not a Weasley, are you?"

"What's that, some kind of communicable disease? Sometimes when I'm nervous or angry, I go all splotchy, but I dunno if that's a disease…"

Listening to her ramble as they pushed through the Entrance Hall and into the fading sunlight, Draco decided he kind of liked this girl.

*********************************************************************

"Harry?"

The timid voice intruded on Harry's thoughts. Upon returning from the Quidditch pitch, he had perched on the window ledge and turned his face firmly toward the grounds of Hogwarts, ignoring the staring eyes of the few Gryffindors in the common room.

Harry blinked as he made out a small figure with streaming blonde hair, limping across the lawns toward the Forbidden Forest. He forced his eyes to look anywhere but at the moving shape, fixing his gaze on the lake instead. 

"Harry…sorry t-to bother you, but S-s-siri…your godfather is outside. H-he wants to talk t-to you." 

Colin Creevey was standing nervously near the window, his eyes darting toward the portrait door in fear. Though Sirius had been pardoned formally by the Ministry, many of the students were still afraid of him, especially those who didn't subscribe to the Daily Prophet.

Harry managed a half-smile. "Ta, Colin. Send him in?" Colin scurried to open the portrait, darting out as soon as Sirius entered. Apparently, the other Gryffindors held the same opinion of Sirius – Harry had never seen the common room empty so fast.

Sirius entered, clean shaven and wearing freshly laundered robes. His face was uncharacteristically solemn. Harry greeted him dully, not moving from the window.

"Nice to see I can still clear a room faster than a Dungbomb." Sirius's voice was a touch bitter as he pulled up a chair and studied his godson. Harry looked out at the grounds again, uncomfortable under Sirius's gaze. Sighing, his godfather moved into the shadows, seemingly collecting himself.

" Harry!" Tearing his eyes from the window, Harry was faced with an indignant and furious Ron. Ron's fists were clenched at his side, looking as though he was trying hard not to punch something.

"How's Ginny?"

"She'll be okay. But listen, Harry, that's not what I have to tell you. Coming back from visiting Gin, I saw Malfoy…"

Harry turned his face to the window again. " Ron, I really don't care about Malfoy right now, okay?" I only care about Buffy, he silently added.

"Malfoy's shagging Lily! He was on top of her in the hallway, having at it!" 

Harry gaped at Ron disbelievingly, hating the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. Ron leaned toward Harry, his voice quieter but still furious.

"Course, I told her what I thought…don't think she'll be coming back to Gryffindor, so you don't have to worry, mate."

There was a muffled gasp behind Ron. Both boys turned to see a quivering pile of books. A moment later, the books were tossed uncaringly aside and Hermione was revealed, trembling in anger. Ron looked rather pleased with himself at Hermione's reaction. At least until she smacked him upside the head.

"Ron Weasley, sometimes you are just the biggest fool in the world! What exactly did you say to her?" Hermione suddenly noticed they weren't alone. "Hi Sirius."

Sirius nodded grimly, not moving his eyes from Ron. "We're waiting," he said in a tight voice. Ron gulped, but recounted his conversation quietly, his eyes darting between Sirius and Hermione, both of whom were listening in horror. Harry found himself numb, unable to speak. It was Sirius that cut Ron off sharply.

"I've heard enough." Hermione looked ready to cry. Sirius emerged from the shadows, eyes blazing." Sit down." It was not a request. Ron sat hurriedly.

Sirius changed tack. " The knowledge that you have been accused of a crime you did not commit is the worst thing in the world. You couldn't even begin to understand what it feels like. First, you become numb. You try to seek comfort in whatever you can – memories, unconsciousness, the familiar sight of your hands – anything to suspend reality. Then you begin to think that since your life matters to nobody, it is no longer worth the struggle to go on, to fight for your own innocence."

Harry was blinking stupidly, stunned. He had never heard Sirius talk in this way, or for so long. Apart from the incident in the Shrieking Shack in third year, Sirius had proved to be a man of relatively few words.

"The absence of hope is a terrible, terrible thing. I would not wish it on anyone else. It eats away at your spirit until you are nothing but a shell. If you are lucky, you manage to claw your way out of the deep hole that another has dug for you. I was lucky. I had ties to bind me to this world – something to fight for. You, Harry. Finding you was the spark of light at the end of a dark tunnel."

Ron was looking at the ground, his face drawn.

"Your Lily has no-one left to turn to – or at least, she believes this to be true. As of this moment, she is missing. The staff are combing both the castle and the grounds for her. Can you even begin to realize what you've done?" 

Sirius sighed, his eyes softening. His next words were spoken to Ron, though Harry had a horrible feeling they were meant for all three Gryffindors. Hermione was crying quietly, fat tears trailing down her cheeks.

" You were trying to protect your friend. I understand that. You judged on what you saw, and in the heat of anger you made a rash decision, without any proof to back it up. Tell me, have any of you attempted to speak to the Headmaster about your suspicions? Did it occur to you that Dumbledore would *never* have knowingly put Hogwarts in danger if there was the slightest chance that what you believed was true?"

None of them could look at Sirius. They hadn't spoken to Dumbledore – in fact, they had chosen to leave the Great Hall rather than wait for his explanation. 

"No. But, but Harry h-had a vision… You-Know-Who was talking about Lily, about his p-plans for her…" Ron was stuttering in his haste to try to justify their actions.

" Did he mention Lily by *name*?" 

"N-no… But there's only one Slayer…the book said…"

Harry was silent, remembering another night in this very common room. Remembering his words to Lily not so long ago. Had it only been two days?

_" I'll always be here if you need me. You know that, right?"_

His own words echoed painfully in his mind. He had promised her everything, and at the first test of loyalty, he had betrayed her faith in him. It made his heart ache.

Malfoy had been right: Lily had known nothing more than the fact that Hogwarts – a place she had no reason to risk her very life for – was under attack, that innocent lives were threatened. Harry realised with a start that Hermione was talking.

"The book was wrong."

Wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe, Hermione motioned to the discarded books. " I went back to the library to read more about the Slayer. Madame Pince had set aside some books for me – I guess Dumbledore knew I would be coming. Some of the books have his own name on them – they're from his own private collection. Including a copy of a Watcher's Diary." 

She held up the diary, a small book with a faded leather cover. Opening it to the title page, she pointed to the words inscribed in neat, slightly stiff handwriting in the top right-hand corner.

_Diary of __Rupert__Giles___

_Watcher of Slayer _

_Buffy __Anne__ Summers_

_1997 – 2001_

Sirius blinked. " Well I'll be damned. Dumbledore really has been keeping a close eye on old Rupes. Wonder how he managed to get a copy – I doubt those gits from the Council gave it to him, Slayer-wizard relations being what they are." From his robe, he pulled two pictures and handed them to Harry. Harry stared down at them, one familiar, one new. The only difference between them was that in the first picture he held, Lily was flanked by two unfamiliar teenagers and a middle-aged man. The second was the picture Colin had taken of the Gryffindor Four. Turning the first over, he noted four names scrawled on the back in what was unmistakeably Lily's handwriting.

_* The Scooby Gang - __Willow__, Giles, Buffy and Xander.* _

The pieces fell into place as Harry stared disbelievingly at Sirius. "That's where you were all this time… with this Watcher? You knew who Lily was even before I mentioned her?" And you didn't tell me, he added silently.

Sirius must have seen something in Harry's eyes. " I couldn't tell you. Didn't even know myself until Dumbledore told me the night I came to bring the letter. I was staying with Rupes in a manner of speaking. Made a good family pet for awhile, at least until the Hellmouth started stirring."

"Er…I still don't see what this has to do with the book being wrong." Ron spoke up.

Hermione rolled her eyes in a manner very similar to Buffy. "Because, Ron, the diary says that there are *two* Slayers." Closing her mouth suddenly, Hermione looked at Harry. " But we've got other things to worry about. Like finding Lily?"

Sirius jumped. " No you don't. You're not going anywhere. Dumbledore's orders."

The Trio just looked at him incredulously. There was silence for a beat, then… Sirius fell back into his chair, unable to move save for his eyes which were frustrated – and slightly amused? Harry blinked at Hermione, who had managed to hex Sirius from behind in mid-sentence. She looked rather sheepish.

" Sorry, Sirius. But we have to fix this. We'll be careful, I promise."

With that, they disappeared out the portrait door. Harry glanced apologetically at him before swinging the door shut. Sirius sat immobile in the chair, silently cursing his continued blindness when it came to the Trio and what they were capable of.

*********************************************************************

Lily was crashing through the undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest, running from something – no, someone. More than one someone, judging from the noise behind her. 

How many, and what species eluded her – the finer details Slayer hearing usually provided were muffled by the sound of her heart pounding furiously in her ears. 

She was beginning to realize exactly how the place had gotten its name – within five minutes of her entering she'd been attacked from behind. Already injured, Lily had been forced to run rather than fight. Now, she was being pursued.

She could feel the jagged edges of her not-yet-healed ribs grating with each gasping breath, every step bringing only more pain. One arm flapped uselessly against her body, her shoulder a bloody and mangled mess, thanks to re-opened stitches and a set of sharp claws.

How long had she been running? It seemed like forever. No matter how far or how fast she ran, her pursuers were on her heels, and gaining every minute. 

It was bitterly cold, the kind that sinks deep into your bones and makes your very soul shiver. The darkness of the forest stretched as far as she could see, thick tree trunks leading to a dense layer of branches that blocked the sun from view.

She felt the painful sting of a low branch whipping across her face, blinding her for one terrifying moment. The pounding of her feet was broken as she stumbled sightlessly over rocks and roots, her good hand stretched out in front in an attempt to protect herself. The red haze cleared almost without her noticing, all her energy focused on running.

_One foot in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't let them catch you. Breathe in. Lead them away. Breathe out. Step. Step. Step step stepstepstepstep. _

She was sure there were others in the forest, silent eyes watching her from the thick undergrowth. Whether they were friend or foe, they acted as spectators in this endless race for her life, not appearing, not helping. The air was thick with mystical energy, writhing and twisting around her as she gave up hope of being stealthy and crashed through the bushes with abandon.

 The Slayer in her refused to sob with exhaustion, drove her to the point of breaking and then demanded that little bit extra. The footsteps behind her were closing in, getting faster.

To her horror, she realized it was not they who were speeding up, but she who was slowing down. There was nowhere to hide, and she didn't know where she was running to. Behind her, there was a triumphant cry as though they had only just noticed this, and the air was suddenly filled with shouts and streaks of light, speeding around her. Magic?

_Duck, weave. Breathe in. If they catch you, you die. Breathe out. _

A few of the streaks collided with her stumbling form, increasing the previously only-just-bearable pain to agony that made her breath catch in her throat. Not caring who heard her, she gave in and began to sob, each gasping breath harder to draw. 

There was a terrible ripping sound as trees were uprooted and flung into her path by an unseen force. In desperation, she chanced a glance behind her, tearing her eyes from the faint path ahead only for a split second.

It was enough. A felled tree loomed ahead and she stumbled and fell hard on her injured shoulder, dirt and leaves mixing with sticky blood, grinding into the open wound. White spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried desperately to get up and found she no longer had the strength. 

She was crawling now, fingernails split and bleeding as her hands clawed the dirt, inching toward a particularly thick shrub that would at least provide some cover from whatever was out there. She curled into a tight ball amongst the prickly leaves, tears of pain streaming from her eyes as thorns embedded themselves in her exposed skin. Too late, she realized her mistake. A bloody trail stretched from the tree to her hiding place, drag marks clearly visible to someone with even the poorest eyesight. Bile rose in her throat as her pursuers leapt over the log nimbly and turned toward her, cruel eyes seeking her out within seconds.

A high, cold laugh echoed through the trees. She was dragged from the bush by her hair, her aching body banging against every possible hard object on the muddy forest floor. Unable to do anything but fight for consciousness, she bit back her sobs. She refused to let these –things- think that she was beaten. Lily was dimly aware of other figures circling as the leader spoke, his voice uncomfortably close to her face.

"Little, little girl. So fragile, so broken. Why are you here, meddling in forces you cannot begin to understand?"

Something flared inside Lily as she thought of the parents who would have to open the owl bearing the news that their son or daughter had been injured, or worse, killed by the invading vampires only last night. She knew with cold certainty that this – was it even a person? – had ordered that attack. 

"I really…" she wheezed, "don't know. You gonna… share your thoughts…or just your really horrible breath?"

Harsh orange light, and pain exploded throughout her entire body, shaking her slight form with tremors no human could withstand for long. From far away, the same hissing voice rose in triumph.

" I think you'll find, little girl, that my friends can do a far better job at sharing thoughts. Yours, in fact."

Lily suddenly felt as though she'd been plunged into icy water, shivers trickling down her spine and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention. The little light that filtered through the dense trees vanished suddenly as though someone had turned off the sun. At once, her senses started going crazy, almost drowning out his voice.

 " You think you know…what you are…what's to come…you haven't even begun." 

There was an eerie rattling sound, a long indrawn breath from an approaching creature. No matter which way Lily looked, all she saw was a veil of darkness. Voldemort – there was no doubt anymore as to his identity – had vanished, leaving her crumpled on the ground, defenseless. But certainly not alone.

A thin, slightly slimy finger ran down Lily's cheek slowly, as though memorizing the feel of her skin. Waves of putrid, rotting breath washed over her and she fought the urge to gag, at the same time fighting to make her limbs obey the command to move.

Then the voices started clamoring for attention inside her head. 

*********************************************************************

A/N: I'm going to be evil and leave things hanging there. Those of you who asked for longer chapters – well, you got your wish : ) If you're interested, a copy of the full prophecy is in Chapter 13.

As always, comments and *constructive* criticism are always welcome.


	19. Death Shall Have No Dominion

A/N:  Sorry for the wait. Now that I have less work, and more time, updates will be coming thick and fast. Well, faster. Imagine that each separate perspective happens at the same time, and you've got yourself a chapter that actually makes sense! **************************************************************************************************************************  Chapter 19: Death Shall Have No Dominion 

****

_"Tomorrow night, Buffy will face the Master, and she will die." _

_" Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die."_

_… _

_ "What's happening?"  
  
"Shh. Don't worry about it."  
  
She brushes her fingers tenderly across his lips and over his cheek. She lays her hand on his cheek and kisses him softly. He returns the kiss, and it becomes more passionate. Behind them the vortex continues to get larger. She breaks off the kiss and looks  into his eyes.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you."  
  
She touches his lips with her fingers again, hating her life and the decisions she is forced to make.  
  
"Close your eyes."  
  
_

_Trusting her, he closes his eyes. She tries hard not to start crying, and kisses him again gently. She steps back, draws back her sword and thrusts it into his chest before she has the chance to rethink her actions. His eyes whip open in bewilderment and agony, both of them watching as the sword begins to radiate light. She steps away from him. He reaches out to her and looks down at the sword thrust completely through him. He looks at her imploringly, completely bewildered by this turn of events. She can only stare at the sword protruding from his chest, and slowly steps further back.  
  
'Buffy…'  _

…

Darkness… and pain. An icy chill has blotted out what little sun I've found in… where am I again? Who am I?

_…_

_"Death  is your gift." It's as if  her body has been dipped in icy water._

_" Death is not a gift. It's not a gift I want and it's not a gift I want to give to anyone else." She is confused as she looks at the First Slayer, resplendent in her war paint and rags, hard from the inside out, and she wonders if this is what lives inside her. She came here for answers, and now she's not sure if she even knows the question._

_…_

_"You're the one that sets me free!" He is gloating, taunting her while his hands squeeze tighter and tighter. " If you hadn't come, I couldn't go." He leans so close she can smell the death on his lips, whispers, " Think about that!'  
  
She freezes with fear. The Master waits a moment longer and then bends down and bites her at the base of her neck. He drinks a few sips and lets her go.  
  
She is overcome with dizziness. She falls  to her knees, then falls  face down into the pool of water. Her hair floats gently on the ripples that her body has created. The ripples fan out until the water is still._

…

I just want it to stop. I don't want to see this anymore.

_…_

_"Angel, what, what is it? What's wrong?" She screams, backing away as his face is revealed. Her Angel is a vampire?! "For a hundred years I offered ugly death to everyone I met, and I did it with a song in my heart."_

…

They're coming faster now. Flash. Flash. Bleeding into one another like some kind of grotesque movie montage. And I suppose, in a way, that's what it is. A horrible version of 'This is My Life'. Flash. Flash flashflashflash.

_ …_

_"Like I really wanted to stick around after that."_

_"Was it me? Was I not good?" She's crying. Wants to ask him why he's saying these things._

_"It's what? Bells ringing? Fireworks? A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies? Come on Buffy, it's not like I've never been there before."_

_She knows he's been there before, is reminded every time she sees him move, speak, pretend that he breathes. She always knew her boyfriend was dead, but this? She didn't know he could be so cruel._

_"If Angel achieved true happiness, even just a moment…he would lose his soul." So I did this… I made him what he is now._

_"You can't do it. You can't kill me." She looks at him and in her heart knows that she can. With a warrior's iron will, she forces back tears._

_"Give me time."_

   …

_"In the end, you're always by yourself. You're all you've got. That's the point." _

_She just wants this finished. "You have the right to remain silent…" "The doctor said it was head trauma…" "He's got your Watcher. Right now he's probably torturing him." Mom…I'm a Vampire Slayer. "Buffy this is insane, you need help!" _

_"If you walk out of this house, don't even think about coming back!" What choice does she have? She turns and walks away._

_…_

"_Every day you manage to survive, you're only partly relieved because you know - it's just a matter of time. Death is on your heels baby - and, sooner or later, it's going to catch you. And some part of you wants it. Not only to stop the fear and the uncertainty - but because you're just a little bit in love with it. Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp, that look of peace…"  
  
_

…__

_"Tell me to kill my sister."_ Stop it! " _Mom? Mommy?"_ I can't take this anymore… _" Ted! You killed him!"_ I didn't mean to do it. It just… _" We're not supposed to move the body!!"_ I should have done something to stop it from happening. _" I am free because you fear it. Because you fear it, the world is crumbling."_ So it was my fault after all. _"Angel, I love you so much – and I've tried to make you go away; I killed you and it didn't help... I wish I wished you dead…but I don't. I can't."_ Please, I'll do anything. Just leave me alone! _"I'll slip in, have myself a real good day." _ I scream until my throat is raw. _"Willow says… kick his ass"_ I can feel the blood drip down my face, feel the skin under my fingernails where my hands clawed at my face, my arms. Anything to stop it. A new voice intrudes.

"Have you figured it out yet, little girl? Lily, you call yourself." The voice lowers to little more than a whisper, a hissing sound that penetrates the screaming of the innocents I couldn't save. "I knew a girl named Lily once. She was brave, as you are. She fought to save her son – she gave her life in hope that he would be spared. In the end, it doesn't matter how much she had to give. I will kill him slowly, savour the sound of his screams as the life is drained from his body. Is that what you aimed to do, little Lily – to give your life to save those you love? Or did a piece of you want your swan dive into oblivion to be your last? Think about that." 

With that, he's gone.

_"Part of you is desperate to know... What's it like? Where does it lead you? That's also a warrior's question. A warrior's curiosity."_

I can't see, can't hear anything bar the voices that surround me, taunting me. Stop it!

_"You're a god. Make it stop."_  I'm not. I'm Lily Asher; Hogwarts student - _"You're not welcome in Gryffindor house – not with me, not with Harry, not with Hermione."_ - amnesiac, orphan, enemy. I'm Buffy Anne Summers; Vampire Slayer - _"The Slayer does not walk in this world." -_ daughter, sister, Scooby. _"You're the Slayer, and we're like, the Slayerettes."_  I don't know where one ends and the other begins. Nothing makes sense anymore. _" I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back. There's trees in the desert since you moved out, and I don't sleep on a bed of bones."_ It's all just static in my head. _"Strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful and it's every day."_ I'm so, _so_ tired of being strong.

…

_"No weapons, no friends, no hope." She sees the sword poised for the killing blow and doesn't think she has the strength to resist it. _

_ "Take that away, and what's left?"_

…

Nothing. There's nothing of me left to give. 

************************************************************************************************************************** 

_Hogwarts_

"Giles, this place is just _so _huge. How are we gonna find Buffy?" If Buffy _wants_ to be found, Willow added silently. Once upon a time, they could have found Buffy simply because they _knew_ how she thought. But now? They didn't know her at all. Truth be told, there had been a rift growing between the Scooby Gang since… high school? Since before Angel lost his soul? Willow couldn't pinpoint the time when the separation had become obvious. 

Now they stood at the base of the steps leading to Hogwarts, looking out at the vast expanse of land beyond, with absolutely no clue where to begin.

Willow turned again to Giles, whose eyes seemed glued to the thick forest. "Giles?" The Watcher blinked in surprise. "Willow. You were saying?" The redhead sighed, and repeated her question. Before Giles could answer, Draco interrupted.

"Just a suggestion, but we might want to start in the Forest." Off their inquiring looks, he added defensively, "That's where someone who didn't know better would go to hide." _I've gone batty. I don't have to defend myself to these… Americans. Bloody Lily's turned me into a pansy. And Red's looking mighty pissed off at me. Not that I care. _The Malfoy smirk returned. " What's your problem, Red? I'm being helpful, aren't I?" _Better than being impaled_. 

"Buffy _does_ know better. That forest looks…"

"Chock full of evil? Put me down for a 'yes' vote on that one, Wills." Xander cut in. He paused. " _Buffy_ might know better. Somehow I don't think _Lily_ is thinking about that right now." His words sealed the discussion, and within seconds the group were trotting toward the forest. From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted movement. Turning his head, he saw an unwelcome sight following their lead. 

_Potter and his band of merry do-gooders. Brilliant._ Ignoring them, he stepped up the pace until he was level with Xander.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight. Your Buffy is our Lily. Either that or some kind of doppelganger. How did she end up at Hogwarts then?" It was Giles that answered, tossing the words over his shoulder without looking back.

" Perhaps we could save the friendly chatting for another time, Mister Malfoy. Now is not - " He was interrupted by a scream from the woods. Their trotting quickened to a full-blown run, Draco's heart pounding in his chest – and not just from the unwelcome exercise. Either one of the forest creatures had met their match, or… the alternative was too unpleasant to consider. He thought of Lily's injuries with a groan of dismay. _There's no way she'd be a worthy opponent for anything in that forest._ He reached for his wand and held it in front of him. 

_Here we come to save the day_, he thought suddenly, and had to smirk at the irony of his words. _Next thing you know, I'll be running errands for Potter and begging to join their little gang of heroes. Oh, Lucius  is just going to be so thrilled. _Somehow, he didn't care as much about that as he thought he would.

***********************************************************************************************************************

The Gryffindor Trio had used every shortcut possible to get out of the school without being noticed by staff or students. The last thing they wanted was for one of the Professors to catch them – Hermione was already agonising over the consequences of hexing Sirius. After nearly running over Mrs Norris, they had arrived at the entrance to Hogwarts and stood in the shadows of the ornate doors, considering their next move. 

It seemed to Harry that the Hogwarts grounds had never looked so huge. 

"Harry, how do we… is that Malfoy over there?" Whatever Ron's question was, he was distracted by the unlikely sight of Malfoy surrounded by strangers. Who were carrying quite an impressive load of weaponry. Harry followed his gaze, watching as the unfamiliar group took off at a steady pace toward the Forbidden Forest. Surely Lily would have known to stay away from there, considering all the stories the Trio had told about their misadventures. Ron seemed to share this sentiment.

"She's bloody stupid if she's gone in there! What's she thinking?" Hermione was staring at him, her eyebrows raised.

"Maybe that she wants to disappear? And who helped out with that decision, exactly?" Harry had to blink at the scorn in her tone. It wasn't often that Hermione got mad, but when she did… she could almost match the trademark Malfoy brand of sarcasm. Ron had the sense to look ashamed.

"Don't remind me, Hermione." His attention was drawn back to the running figures. " Well, we might as well follow Malfoy." He looked horrified. "Did I really just say that?" Harry nodded absentmindedly, prompting a groan from Ron. "You'll feed me to Aragog before you tell _anyone_ about this, right?" 

"Let's go." 

Hogwarts robes flapping, the Trio began to run toward the forest. Harry realised with dismay that Malfoy and his group were just about to push forward into the trees. Beside him, Ron was panting at the unexpected exercise, eyes fixed on the Slytherin boy as though he could make him trip with the power of his mind.

" Hermione, can't you hex him or something?" Ron wheezed.

Even against the pounding in his ears, Harry could hear Hermione's sigh of frustration. "You know I can't do that, Ron. Besides, at this range I could hit one of the Americans, or Mr Giles. It's far too risky." Despite the rough ground, Ron turned wide eyes to Hermione while Harry pricked up his ears, his eyes still fixed on Malfoy's group. " How did you – no wait, let me guess. You read it in a book somewhere." Hermione looked faintly surprised, to which Ron managed a grin. 

"You think I never pay attention? Just tell me it wasn't Hogwarts: A History."

Hermione managed a faint smile before panting out, " The photo Sirius had, from his time in America – somehow, he must have brought them here with him. I don't know – "

At that moment, a scream pierced the grounds, and the Gryffindor Trio dropped all pretense of banter and ran at full speed toward the Forbidden Forest. 

**********************************************************************************************************************

_Sunnydale_

"Any change?" Wesley asked as Tara descended the stairs. The Wiccan shook her head, her eyes closing briefly as if she were drawing strength from within. 

"At least she's stopped her awful screaming now. That was very annoying." Anya cut in, earning her an exasperated glance from Wesley. Tara, the only other Scooby member to be left behind, ignored Anya's comment with a practiced air. The ex-demon eyed the occupants of the room warily, her face softening.

 "I care about Dawn, I really do. I just care more when my eardrums aren't being assaulted. Don't stare at me that way, Wes, I saw you filling your ears with cotton wool earlier today." All eyes turned to Wesley. Without giving anyone a chance to cut in, Anya continued. "Who's patrolling tonight? Not me – I put in my share of hack-and-slash last night. It's someone else's turn."

"Are you sure that you don't mean shriek-and-flee?" The comment earned Wesley a very early-Cordelia-esque glare from Anya, who promptly retorted.

"You _would_ be the first one to point that out, Sir Shrieks-Like-A-Girl."

"I have never- er, _shrieked_."

"Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too!" 

"Have - "

From the couch, Cordelia sat up gingerly, a towel pressed to her head. "How very three years old of you, Wes." She said dryly. "If this new vision montage is a scheme to knock me out of action altogether, someone upstairs is doing a pretty damn good job. Anya, I think Angel and Gunn drew the patrol straw. Can you ask them to find the horde of tiny, stomping demons partying in my skull while they've got the weapons handy?" She turned to Tara. "Do you want me to take over for awhile? I can handle Dawn duty."

Tara smiled wearily, sinking onto the couch beside the former May Queen. "Thanks Cordy. She's sleeping now – I can't say how long it will last, but it's something. I just hope the others find what they're looking for, fast. I don't think there's… I don't think she has much time." 

Wesley sat forward alertly. "How much time, exactly?" 

Tara began to stutter under Wes's gaze. "A f-few days, a week m-maybe. The seizures take a lot out of her. There a-are some potions that w-would help, but the 

Magic Box doesn't have all the ingredients." At this, Anya looked offended.

"For your information, we're the best stocked – "

"Don't go taking it personally, Demon-Girl. I'm sure Glinda didn't mean to pierce that thick skin of yours." Spike spoke up from the shadows for the first time. 

"Can the stuff be ordered?" The question was directed at Tara, who pulled a list from under a pile of heavy books and handed it to Anya. After scanning it, she looked up thoughtfully.

"Some of these…" she said, pointing, "are your standard ingredients – eye of newt, a few herbs. The others… not something you see in your generic supplier's catalogue. If they even exist anymore, they'll be almost impossible to find. The big suppliers we use are mainly pushing the candles and incense, spinning crystals and all that other tourist junk. I know people – well, demons – who've attempted to mix these things and ended up with only two arms, or with a hole in their chest. Some aren't even here anymore. You'd need a skilled potions master to do this safely."

Spike snorted. "Right, and those are just lining up to lend a hand – or in this case, a whole arm. Better not put that in the ad. Your standard Biteable won't be too keen on doing something that might lose them a body part, not if they're warned beforehand." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and made as if to light up. Anya raised her eyebrows pointedly, staring at the prominently displayed warning on the packet.

"Buf-," she corrected herself hastily, "_Willow _said no smoking in the house. And you know those things will -" Spike smirked. "Kill me?" He too examined the packet, his grin widening. "Right, so there are some exceptions. Lungs just don't have the same value anymore. I knew a guy who would pay up to a hundred quid for a fresh set, got his rocks off just tearing 'em up with his bare..."

Cordelia wrinkled her nose disgustedly. "Another thing to add to the list of _never tell me_, Spike." The vampire shrugged and tucked the cigarette back in the packet. " Those were the days. Hey, where's the Great Poof?"

"_Angel_ went to Willy's. He thought the barman might have some useful information he's willing to, uh, share." 

Anya snorted in Wesley's general direction. " That Willy wouldn't share his breathing space without monetary compensation. I hope Angel has deep pockets."

"'Course he does. Peaches has to put those big, meaty fists somewhere, don't he? I saw that grin, Watcher the Second." 

"Why 'Peaches'? It doesn't exactly fit with the Scourge of Europe image." The question came not from Anya as one might have expected, but from Cordelia, in an attempt to distract Wesley from memories of his time as Watcher. Spike spared a glance at the Englishman, then took the bait.

"Why not? Reminder of the good ol' days, luv. Ever groped beneath that billowy coat of Angel's? When he gets back, have at it. You'll get it when you feel his firm little - "

Cordelia's eyes practically bugged out of her head. " Forget I asked. Tara, what was it you were saying about…" Inspiration failed her. "something?"

Flustered, Tara checked her list again. "W-well, if Anya can bring me the basic supplies, I can g-get things started here… at least until we find someone else who can f-finish it." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, deep in thought. "We should contact Giles – the others ought to know. Maybe Sirius can find someone willing to help?" 

"_Buffy!"_ The scream came from the stairs, hoarse and desperate. Spike was the first to unfreeze, bolting up the stairs to where Dawn lay crumpled, her failing strength unable to support her more than a few steps. Gathering her in his arms as though she was made of glass, he turned to take her back to her bedroom as the others looked on silently from below. As though she sensed the movement, Dawn's eyes snapped open wildly, her pupils dilated in terror. Her hands beat weakly at Spike's shoulders in protest.

"Put me… down! They have to know, I have to tell them, she would want them to know, I have to tell them, me, me, _ME_! Don't wanna go back in… there. Down! _DOWN_! Oh, Buffy." Her voice cracked and faded to a whisper as Spike shifted his arm to restrain her fluttering fingers. "Spike, _please_… I have to… downstairs." He was frozen for a minute before his face set and he complied with her pleas, navigating the stairs slowly and moving to set her down on the couch. 

Tara knelt close to Dawn on the floor, laying a shaking hand on the girl's forehead and whispering softly. When she at last sat back, Dawn's eyes had cleared somewhat, and she struggled to sit up. 

"She won't come out. They have to go _inside_… have to find her like they did in the _Before_. She's trapped there…she's hurting and the white lady can't help with her medicine or her little stick. She won't come out because she knows _He_ knows what she is." Her voice became a chant. "She knows he knows that she knows he knows. She knows that _I_ know too, but she doesn't know herself…not yet. She doesn't understand."

"Who doesn't understand, Dawnie?"

" Three little ducks went out to play… into the forest and lost their way… Wizard duck said quack quack quack quack… but only one little duck came back. The wolf and the dog shall hunt in the dead of night but they are beyond saving."

The group stared at Dawn, who continued to babble.

"When their minds are picked clean and their essence gone, they shall have stars at elbow and foot… though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the fog they shall rise again, though lovers be lost, love shall not… and death shall have no dominion."

The irony of this was lost on all but Wesley, who whispered "Thomas." The others dared not look at him as Dawn continued.

"Miles to go before we sleep. Little Miss Muffet lost without her tuffet, the clock counting down from oh-three-oh. Tick tock, tick tock, the clock strikes and the world falls down."

 Cordelia looked stunned. "I've heard that before… where?"

"Dark-eyed death waits in the shadows while dark-eyed life fights her fog; two become one. The enemy is coming to the camp, and the friends shall not know, and they shall be led into blackness. The one with the name that rings truth has her own scars. Her own battle to face. Miles to go."

Dawn's voice was fading slowly, forcing them to lean close to catch her words. "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match… run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch. The stars are singing for her and she shall not disappoint. There shall be tea and cakes for everyone. The demon will be set free from its cage and Daddy will come home just for the party, his arms filled with sweets for good little childer."

Spike drew an unnecessary breath at the words, but said nothing.

"They've changed the locks and the key won't fit the door, so he'll change the rules instead. Old friends are arriving at the door, knock knock, who's there? Their names cannot be spoken by more than a few. The others are coming too; not one alike, but all bound in their hate and spite for her. They want her but will settle for less. They are coming to take back what they meant to claim long ago." Dawn's face turned chalk-white and she closed her eyes briefly. Anya looked to Wesley, her face drawn with horror and confusion.

"What does she mean? What's happening? Get some books and **look it up**, dammit!!" Wesley stood immobile, his eyes never leaving Dawn's still figure. Her eyelids fluttered as her voice became the softest whisper.

 "It's time to go. The Ferryman is waiting. You can't put it off; you can't stay here forever. Now, _close your eyes_. It's but a short step to the boat, a short pull across the river. And then I promise you, you'll dream a different story altogether…"

Dawn's body twitched, then lay silent and still. Tara reached for her limp wrist, frantically feeling for a pulse. There was a collective intake of breath as she closed her eyes and set Dawn's wrist gently on the couch. 

"I-I think she's sleeping. For a m-moment there, I thought…"

Wesley closed his eyes. "Yes." There was no need to elaborate on what had entered everyone's mind.

"What the bloody hell was that?" The words came from Spike, but the tone was unrecognisable. The blonde vampire was rarely frightened – or at least rarely showed his fear. The question hung, unanswerable, in the air. Wesley sank into an armchair, rubbing at his face.

"I honestly don't know."

"We need to contact Giles." Cordelia stated the obvious from her perch on the coffee table, her eyes shadowed.

"Yes." Wesley said again. "Cordelia, Anya, can you -" For once, Anya didn't argue about  working with the former cheerleader. Both women simply rose and headed toward the dining room. "Spike, I think it would be best if Dawn was taken to her room." Spike nodded, lifting the fragile girl gently. Wesley raised his eyebrows at the wave of compliance sweeping the room, but refrained from commenting. 

" Tara, Angel's keys are on the kitchen bench. Can you drive a stick shift?" She nodded uncertainly. " We need as many of those ingredients as the Magic Box stocks, as well as some texts -" Wesley rattled off a list. "Take Cordelia's phone with you, and a stake. I don't need to remind you to be careful."

Within seconds, Wesley was alone in the room with a pen and paper, writing down as much of Dawn's ramblings as he could remember. Staring at the hurriedly scribbled lines, he felt a chill blow through the room and grasp his heart with icy fingers. In grand Sunnydale tradition, things had only just begun to get worse.

*********************************************************************************************************************** 

A/N: I am evil…with silent paws and painted toenails. A special something for anyone who can decipher Dawn's ramblings and tell me what's going down, who's coming. Email me if you have an idea…please don't put it in a review and spoil things for the rest. 

If anyone's interested, excerpts from Dylan Thomas's 'Death shall have no dominion' and 'I, Claudius' were used in the last part of this chapter. Various quotes/scenes were taken from past BtVS episodes – I won't name them because there's too many.

Next chapter will be up in a week – depending on how long it takes my beta to get back to me. If anyone wants to join the beta-team, drop me a line. I'm after at least one more to lighten the load a little. Pretty please?


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